


Welcome to Westfield

by TheLateNightStoryTeller



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fringe storyline inspired, Graphicish description of violence, Multi, Season 1/2 crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLateNightStoryTeller/pseuds/TheLateNightStoryTeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'lost' mission set between Yes Men and End of the Beginning.<br/>The team gets a mission in a small town called Westfield where everything is strange and not at all alright.<br/>FitzSimmons romance/friendship throughout as well as whole team involvement in the case. Links between the first and second seasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Westfield

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my version of a 'lost' mission that takes place between _Yes Men_ and _The End of the Beginning_ and is very inspired by the fourth season episode of Fringe (a science fiction series) _Welcome to Westfield_ (though the plot will differ considerably later on, think of the episode as a super prompt if you've ever seen it.)
> 
> I really love FitzSimmons and this story will focus on them and will include a bit of romance ;), but features the rest of team as well, because they're awesome too.
> 
> Agents of SHIELD belongs to it's creators and Marvel. They rock socks. :D
> 
> Also you may have noticed two chapters went up at once. I have four done already and up on FF.net and I am transfering the story here two chapters at a time. (Because editing the chapters for this site takes time).

"Fee, will you stop playing with the GPS, we're lost enough as it is," Sarah complained, irritable from driving in circles for three hours in the dark, hungry and tired. They sped by the sign that read 'Welcome to Westfield' for the third time and she swore under her breath.

"What is your destination?" The GPS asked in a monotone female voice.

"Mars," Felix joked, chuckling to himself and Sarah fought the urge to smack her brother.

"Felix I swear if you don't stop that right now I'm going to-" the car's engine suddenly cut out and the battery went dead, leaving them in darkness as they skidded to a stop on the empty road.

"I didn't do it," Felix declared, holding his hands in the air to show he hadn't touched anything.

"Obviously you didn't do it," she grumbled, getting out of the car to look under the hood.

She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her bulky black cell phone to call for roadside service, but it was dead.

"The GPS isn't working anymore," Felix announced, hopping out of the car, concern flickering across his face, visible even in the moonlight. "And my cell phone's dead."

"Mine too," Sarah told him.

"Shit," he cursed. The hand holding his phone trembled slightly and Sarah knew he was scared, her kid brother didn't like dark, open spaces, even if, at seventeen, he wasn't exactly a kid anymore, and they were stranded on a pitch black road in the middle of nowhere, the moon their only source of light.

"Let's get in the car," she suggested, gentler now, the gravity of the situation they'd found themselves in pushing out her annoyance.

He complied quickly and Sarah locked the doors before she realized they were sitting, dark, in the middle of the road. If someone came along they'd probably crash right into them.

She was preparing to tell him that, that they should get out of the car, when the whir of a low flying plane caught their attention. They tilted their heads so they could peer out the windshield and saw it soar, startlingly low, over the trees. Then there was a bright flash of orange light and a loud boom that shook the ground beneath them.

"Sarah..." Felix squeaked.

She squeezed his shoulder, offering a moment of comfort before she unbuckled her belt and opened the door. Felix scrambled out after her, sticking close beside her.

"Should we go help?" He wondered anxiously, the flames reflecting in his eyes even from a distance, shining orange dancers. Sarah could imagine the searing heat coming off of them and her stomach twinged fearfully.

She took her brother's hand, the same way she'd done when he was much younger and she hadn't wanted to lose him in a crowd or have him run ahead of her to cross a busy street on his own.

"I think we should try," she told him.

/-/-/

Fitz and Simmons sat in the back of the SHIELD vehicle, arguing over top of Skye who sat between them.

"Inherent weakness," Fitz scoffed. "What exactly, Simmons, does you being a female give you that I don't have?"

Skye, who really wished she'd been allowed to ride with lone-wolf Ward and the two military scientists who had volunteered to assist them, in the other car, stifled a few sarcastic replies. Their science-duo had been bickering the entire two hour drive from the landing site and the last thing she wanted to do was fuel the fire of the debate.

On the contrary, she wished she had a fire hose to spray the two of them with, maybe the cold water would shock them enough to give it a rest for a few minutes. Besides, then they could have a water fight, which would be way more fun than sitting neutral in the middle of World War FitzSimmons, trying and failing at pretending to be distracted by her phone, which was rapidly losing both its wifi and mobile signal.

When they both finally gave out in the middle of her tweet 'My friends are driving me nuts. #they're crazy but I love them #the old married couple,' she shoved it back into her pocket and sighed.

"It's not what I have," Simmons was saying. "It's what you have, all men actually."

"Which is?" Fitz questioned, unconvinced.

"A susceptibility to Lorelei's voice," she told him, tilting her head and shaking it back and forth, as if disappointed he hadn't already known the answer.

"Yeah, well that isn't how you meant it earlier today," he grumbled.

"That's exactly how I meant it earlier today!" She objected loudly, causing Skye to cover her ears, her eardrums an unnoticed casualty as her friend continued. "What in the world did you think I was saying?" She questioned.

"Oh C'mon Simmons," he argued, talking over her while narrowing his eyes at her and frowning. "I know you're embarrassed about giving into the 'girls rule and boys are smelly' playground nonsense but you don't have to lie."

"I am not lying!" She shot back at the exact moment Fitz said the word 'lie'. Skye even thought she might have said it a fraction of a second before he had, but she wasn't exactly a slow motion sound recorder so what did she know? "Playground nonsense," Simmons huffed. "You're being completely ridiculous because you're the one embarrassed about being overtaken-"

"Affected-" Fitz corrected and Simmons rolled her eyes.

"Affected, by Lorelei's voice," she went on. "There's no shame in it Fitz, she had all the men under her control, not just you-"

"I'm not embarrassed," he muttered, though by the blush that rose to his cheeks, Skye got the feeling that he was.

"-even Ward was- Ow, Skye," she complained because Skye had poked her in the ribs with her elbow a little harder than she had intended to. Her friend raised her eyebrows at her, requesting an explanation and Skye jerked her head towards May who sat in the front seat beside Coulson, seemingly ignoring their conversation, and she seemed to understand, falling silent and looking down guilty at her hands.

Fitz took advantage of Simmons' silence to push his point. "I'm just saying that if there were some incredibly handsome, well formed Asgardian man with an enchantingly seductive voice, you'd be just as much under his control as I was under Lorelei's, especially considering you seem to go for that sort of thing."

Skye reflected that it didn't really have to be a man, Lorelei's power was obviously not about who people were attracted to if it affected all men. Not all men liked women like that. Still she kept her mouth shut, hoping this would be over soon. She met Coulson's gaze in the rearview mirror, wordlessly asking the cliche road trip question 'are we there yet?'

'Soon,' he mouthed, sympathetic.

Simmons snorted. "It wouldn't matter if he were my type if his voice had similar effects to Lorelei's would it? And what do you care what my type is?"

"I don't," he said, a little too quickly. Skye could tell he did care, a lot, but Simmons was oblivious as usual.

The car stopped, at last, and Skye practically crawled over Fitz to get out.

"Didn't we tell you to pee before we left?" Fitz scolded, guessing wrong at the reason she needed to get out so quickly.

She left the still bickering pair to join her SO and the far more disciplined looking set of scientists beside him.

"Next time, please take me with you," she begged.

"FitzSimmons driving you crazy?" He guessed.

She blew out a breath. "They're still on the whole Lorelei's control agrument," she groaned, before remembering he too had been affected by the criminal alien bent on collecting all the men of the world like human trading cards and bit her lip. "Or... I mean her super magic powers or whatever," she corrected herself. "I think Fitz is still sore about it."

"Well he did chase after Simmons under her control," Ward pointed out. "He might still be afraid what he would have done to her if Coulson hadn't ambushed him."

Skye narrowed her eyes, disbelieving. "He wouldn't have hurt her, he looked more like a little kid trailing their rebel friend who'd broken some sort of rule. I think he was just going to try to convince her to listen to him. Fitz wouldn't hurt Simmons."

Ward shrugged, unconvinced. "Maybe not, but whatever she did to us, we weren't thinking clearly, did things we'd never do otherwise." He glanced at their friend, who was waving his arms in the air to elaborate on some point he was making. "If he felt the way I did, he'd have done anything for her, and maybe that's shaken him."

"Did it shake you?" Skye asked, concerned.

He shrugged again. "No."

Skye thought he was probably lying but Coulson was calling them over for a group meeting and the tin-man had never really been the kinda guy to respond to her poking and prodding anyway.

Hard as she tried she couldn't imagine Fitz harming anyone, especially Simmons, but if he had been manipulated into it, if he had really been ready to cause her harm, she could understand why he was so upset. He'd been turned into a human puppet, almost used as a weapon against one of the people he loved most in the world. That had to have messed with his head.

She watched Simmons, puffing her cheeks at him, clearly still annoyed at his earlier accusation, remembering how upset she got when her parnter was in danger, at the idea of him being compromised, and thought she understood why the whole thing had upset the biochemist too.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter was from Skye's point of view, but later chapters will likely be from Fitz or Simmons' POV.
> 
> Felix and Sarah are named after the brother/sister duo from Orphan Black (another science fiction series). Their personalities are not the same though, neither are their physical characteristics (which I usually like to leave up to the imagination).
> 
> There is a reference to the series Fringe in this chapter (and there will be one in every chapter). It is when Felix asks the GPS to plot a root to Mars. Peter jokingly does this in the second season episode Northwest Passage.


	2. Out of Chocolate

Simmons stood beside Fitz, still irritated with her partner, the pair of them rigid and tense as they listened to their leader's instructions.

"We'll be going on foot from here," Coulson told them before turning his attention to the military scientist beside him.

"Hello," she greeted, far more cheerful and relaxed than Simmons had expected after seeing her curt, serious posture and formal green camoflauge uniform. "My name is Dr. Leaky and this is Dr. Niehaus," she introduced. "At around twelve thrity this morning, flight 463 crashed about half a mile from here," she sobered as she turned her head towards the column of dark smoke still puffing like a grey cloud from just beyond the trees. "We sent in a small team at two fifty five am, we lost contact with them at two fifty seven am and haven't heard from them since. Additionally, we have been unable to establish contact with anyone in the town of Westfield."

"And we're just going to... go on in," Skye questioned skeptically, gesturing with her hands as she spoke, pushing one forward and raising her eyebrows. "Seriously? What if we're lost too and they have to send someone to rescue us and then someone has to rescue them and then-" Ward shot her a look and she stopped abruptly. "I'm just saying," she defended, "maybe we could... I dunno, send in a drone or something first?"

"We've been monitoring the area for around four hours now," Dr. Niehaus informed her, he sounded younger than his somber expression made him appear. He pointed to a line drawn with bright yellow spray paint on the paved black road ahead of them. Beyond it lay scattered pieces of what could have been one large or several small mechanical devices. After quickly examining the pattern of the debris, three distinct clusters of metal and wires, Simmons guessed the latter. "We've been sending in drones to investigate the area, but they lose power and crash once they pass that line."

"Which is why we'll be going in on foot," Coulson explained. "Our vehicles wont work beyond that point, the batteries cut out." His gaze shifted to Simmons and Fitz. "Neither will the D.W.A.R.F.s I'm afraid," he told them.

Fitz grumbled and Simmons felt a tiny flicker of irritation at not being able to use their equipment.

'That's alright,' she thought, attempting to remain positive. 'We'll just have to get creative, think outside our box, so to speak. It could be fun.' She brightened at that and flashed Fitz an optimistic smile before remembering they were still upset with each other. He wasn't looking at her.

"So pack lightly, it's a two hour walk into town," Coulson instructed. "And remember, nothing that runs on electricity is going to work, so leave it here."

Fitz sighed and dragged his feet back to their vehicle where he grudgingly emptied about half his knapsack back into their storage bin.

"It wouldn't have killed anyone to brief us _before_ we packed," he muttered, still clearly disgruntled from their earlier discussion.

Simmons carefully placed the electronic devices she'd stored in her backpack beside his. "Fitz-" she began tentatively but he huffed and stalked away before she could finish whatever it was she was going to say.

"I didn't mean it that way," she repeated to the empty space beside her, frowning as she watched him fall into step beside Ward.

The other agent didn't seem to mind his company, it actually looked as if they'd struck up a conversation, though Fitz was still doing most of the talking and Simmons would have been happy that her friend was bonding with his teammates except that he was walking with Ward specifically so he didn't have to walk with her.

"Can I put my phone in next to your do-dads," Skye inquired, hovering the mentioned phone over the open box.

"You mean our field equipment," Simmons corrected automatically, distracted. "Sure, fine."

"You OK?" Skye wondered, dropping it in and allowing Simmons to close the box. "You and Fitz were going at it like cats and dogs on the way here."

Simmons snapped the lid of the box back on forcefully, causing Skye to jump back, surprised. "That's ridiculous," she grumbled. "Cat's and dog's aren't inherently enemies, a lot of the time they get along quite well. I'm fine, if Fitz wants to believe things about me that aren't true, then there isn't anything I can do about it, so why should I be bothered?" She slammed the door of the vehicle and stomped after the rest of their team.

"You don't seem OK," Skye protested, jogging to catch up with her.

"How could he possibly think that?" She raged, ignoring Skye's comment. "That I would give in to childish nonsense, make light of the situation, when my best friend was..." she grunted and threw her hands in the air, searching for the word, "compromised. Even if he were a complete stranger I'd be worried, but he's _Fitz_ , I..." she hissed in frustration and shook her head before going on. "It's as if he thinks I don't care about him at all."

"C'mon Simmons, that's crazy. Fitz knows you love him," Skye assured her, giving her a nudge.

Simmons' cheeks grew hot and she knew she'd turned a few shades pinker.

'She doesn't mean it that way,' she reminded herself, but the blush remained.

"That's why you're so upset right?" She guessed. "Because your friend was compromised, he wasn't entirely himself anymore, and that scared you."

Simmons realized she was right. Most of her anger had come out of fear, fear at what Lorelei could have made him do, of what she could have done to him. She could have killed him where he stood and he would have remained unresistant, grinning while it happened, his mind no longer his own, not allowing him to defend himself. It was despicable and terrifying. She couldn't stand the idea of him suffering, of parts of him being taken away.

"It probably scared him too," Skye pointed out when she didn't reply. "Maybe you should let him have this one," she suggested. "He did get kidnapped after all... sort of... and he's probably a little shaken up about it."

"If he'll talk to me," Simmons lamented, gaze drifting to the back of him a few feet ahead. He seemed in a better mood at least, laughing at something before good naturedly hitting Ward on the arm. Ward turned towards him and Simmons could see he was amused, maybe even chuckling.

"Fitz wouldn't stop talking to you if someone offered him Iron Man's suit for it," Skye dismissed. "The guy's completely in love with you, he'd stick with you through Armageddon."

Simmons' attention snapped back to Skye. "What?"

"Armageddon? It's a movie," she explained. "You know, a team of oil drillers has to go to space camp so they can drill a nuclear bomb into a giant-"

"No, not that, the other thing," Simmons cut in quickly. She couldn't have possibly heard her correctly. There must have been some sort of misunderstanding.

"What other thing?" Skye wondered. "Oh, that? Are you really surprised?"

Simmons stared blankly at her.

"Seriously?" Skye gasped, disbelief almost oozing out of her. "I thought you knew..."

"There's nothing to... what, no," Simmons shook her head. "Fitz isn't... I mean we're not..."

Skye pressed her lips together, looking as if it had just dawned on her that she'd made a mistake and regret was seeping in. "Never mind, forget I said anything," she mumbled, picking up her pace so that Simmons needed to speed up her steps to stay beside her, bouncing anxiously as she did.

"What are you talking about?" She pressed, hovering around her. "Did he say something?"

"No," Skye answered, sounding as if she didn't really want to talk about it anymore. Almost guilty.

Simmons relaxed. That settled it, this was all in her friend's overactive imagination. It wasn't poor Skye's fault, not many people understood the relationship she'd formed with Fitz, but Simmons did. It was simple, easy, the two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and yes, they were close, but it wasn't like _that_.

Right?

Absolutely not, Simmons was almost certain (leaving reasonable room for error) that Fitz was not in love with her.

"It isn't like that," she said, but the words came out too forceful and it sounded like a lie. "It isn't," she insisted.

Skye was silent and Simmons couldn't help thinking that there was a chance, however small, that she'd been wrong all these years, that she'd misread what she and Fitz were to each other. After all, every idea had room for reasonable error.

/-/-/

Coulson and May left the rest of the team at a small diner while they went to find the local police station, trailed by Dr. Niehaus and Dr. Leaky. Fitz was glad for the pause, his feet were throbbing and his stomach gurgled and grumbled, complaining about his skipped breakfast.

He was feeling better about his fight with Simmons though, after a long conversation with Ward. The specialist had been sympathetic to Fitz's side of the argument (of course he had, he'd been affected too) but he'd carefully suggest that Fitz 'cut Simmons a little slack'.

"After all," he'd said. "She's probably upset because she was worried about you."

Fitz knew he was right. Simmons wouldn't belittle his feelings, or make fun of him when he'd been hurt, she was his friend and she cared about him and, to be honest, he was already starting to miss her company.

So when she sat down beside him at the square, wooden table and picked up a menu, he didn't protest or move away. Instead he smiled at her and she smiled back, seeming relieved.

"How about I order you some chocolate crepes?" She offered brightly, finding them on the inside of the laminated paper, folded down the middle, that served as their menu. The picture made his mouth water, thin dough with dark chocolate squishing out the front and a swirl of light, fluffy whip cream that looked as if it would taste like a sweet, creamy cloud.

They were about the most expensive thing on the menu though.

"I can just have eggs if it's too much," he assured her, pointing to the price across from the description. "I don't need crepes."

"Oh Fitz," she chuckled, grinning warmly at him. "You were kidnapped, of course you need crepes."

He raised his eyebrows and she blushed, a light pink painting her cheeks the hue of the sky at dawn. Fitz swallowed, momentarily distracted by the way the sunlight made the brown in her hair sparkle, at how the features of her face seemed so familiar, so right.

"I'm sorry," she explained softly, surprising him and pulling him out of his daydreaming.

What was the matter with him? Ogling Simmons like a teenager with a crush. He didn't have a crush on Simmons, didn't like her that way, she was just... really pretty. Of course he'd gotten a bit distracted, what with that sneaky beam of sunlight coming through the window, illuminating her like a spotlight. It didn't mean anything.

He pushed down the tingling in his stomach and nudged her lightly with his elbow. "Me too," he answered, and just like that, all was forgiven.

"Did someone say crepes?" Skye chirped, loudly skidding back a chair to sit across from them while Ward took his out silently, without even a soft thud as the legs touched back down onto the wooden floor. Simmons handed her the menu and her eyes lit as she licked her lips. "Yum, but... they're kind of steep aren't they?" She commented. She turned to Ward. "Did you want to share a plate?" She asked sweetly, her eyes round.

"And pay for half?" he guessed flatly, amused. She shrugged innocently and he smiled. "Sure."

Fitz thought that they had the right idea.

"Did you want half of my crepes?" he wondered, turning to Simmons, suddenly shy, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

He shared with Simmons all the time, but there was something about sharing a single plate of food that seemed almost... intimate.

"Yes please," she answered gratefully, oblivious to any awkwardness which might have followed such a suggestion.

"Have you seen anyone who works here?" Skye asked, looking around the empty room. "I know it's early, but... it's open right?"

"It said it was on the door," Ward commented, though his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"We're open," a man told them, hurrying out of the kitchen. "It's just me today, since all my help decided to stay home." He shook his head disapprovingly. "And the power's out so we're giving a free scoop of ice cream with every meal. Good thing we still use gas or I'd be out for the day." He smiled. "What can I get you?"

"We'll share the strawberry crepes," Skye answered, pointing between herself and Ward.

"And we'll take chocolate," Simmons added, beaming at Fitz and making him feel as if a bird were tap dancing on his stomach while fluttering it's wings in his chest. Stupid sunshine. "Do you know what's going on?" She inquired as she handed the man the menu.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "The power's out, probably from the storm last night."

"I don't think there was a storm in this area," she objected politely, frowning in confusion.

He barked out a laugh. "You must sleep like an old dog kid," he chorlted. "All that thunder and lightening and you didn't notice it? Haven't had a storm like that since 2019."

"Umm..." her eyes narrowed and the rest of the team exchanged a bewildered glance. "It's... it's 2014."

He laughed again. "You're funny, I like you. How's about I add some an extra scoop of ice cream so you wont have to fight over it with your little brother?"

"Little- what?" Fitz gasped, offended. He wasn't Simmons' brother and he certainly wasn't her younger one, he was older than she was!

The man winked at her and returned to the kitchen. What was that? Was he flirting with her? Was that why he'd been so quick to label Fitz as her 'little brother.'

"Why does he think I'm the younger one?" Fitz grumbled when he was gone.

"That was what bugged you about that conversation?" Skye asked, incredulous. She turned to the others and lowered her voice. "What year does he think it is?"

"Maybe we heard him wrong..." Simmons suggested, staring after him.

"I don't think so," Ward said.

"I don't look like your little brother," Fitz muttered, unconcerned with the date mix up. He'd probably been talking about something else, maybe 2019 was some sort of festival, or a movie or even a radio show.

"You do look younger than you are," Simmons pointed out.

He grumbled again and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, pouting.

Skye tapped his foot under the table. "Hey, Mr. Grumpy, didn't you tell us that was a good thing? That we'd be envious of you when-"

"You were wrinkly old hags," he finished. She giggled at him and he couldn't hold back a smiled.

"There's no need for you to be worried about it," Simmons agreed. "You look wonderful and besides- crepes!" She exclaimed happily, eyes sparkling as the restaurant owner placed a plate in front of each of them.

'And besides what?' Fitz wondered, wishing she had finished. What was she going to say about him? It sounded like it was going to be something nice, but he didn't know how to ask her about it without seeming nosy.

He couldn't smell the chocolate yet, the sweet, tart tang of the strawberries from Skye and Ward's breakfast overpowered it, but the whip cream looked exactly as it had on the menu and he could already taste it melting on his tongue.

Simmons handed him a fork and he cut into the dough, letting bright red strawberry goop run onto the plate.

"Oh... umm, excuse me," Simmons called to the owner. He returned, smiling pleasantly.

"How can I help you?" He inquired, polite.

"Sorry, but we wanted chocolate," she explained apologetically.

He narrowed his eyes. "Where do you think you are the Ritz?"

Simmons tilted her head. "Excuse me?"

"This isn't some high end, fancy restaurant," he went on angrily. "If you wanted chocolate, you should have gone somewhere else."

"But... but it's on the menu..." she frowned, obviously taken aback by his sudden aggression.

"Are you trying to trick me?" He spat and Fitz bristled at the hostility in his tone. Simmons had done nothing to warrant this kind of treatment.

"N-no..." she stammered.

"Yes you are!" Without any kind of warning or apparent motivation, he pulled out a gun, it was small, easy to conceal, and pointed it at her. Her eyes widened in terror and Fitz snapped, bolting to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process so that it clattered on the floor, and placing himself between her and the weapon, needing to put a barrier between her and the danger whatever the cost to himself.

There was a blur of movement to his side just as the gun went off, so close the bang made his ears ring and the sound of Simmons screaming his name seemed far away.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diner scene is based off a scene in Welcome to Westfield where Walter asks for pie and the waiter keeps forgetting he ordered it then gets mad when Walter tells him he said he could have it for free (which he did)
> 
> The Fringe reference is the line 'You were kidnapped, of course you need Crepes.' Walter tells this to Peter in the episode where he is kidnapped by a fourteen year old boy with mind control powers.
> 
> Dr. Leaky is named after Aldous Leaky from Orphan Black and Dr. Niehaus is named for Cosima Niehaus from the same show.


	3. Two in One

"Fitz!" Simmons exclaimed, shouting because everything was muffled except for a high pitched whine she was certain was in her head.

He seemed stunned, deafened as she was, and he stared blankly back at her while she frantically checked him over.

"Is he hurt?" Ward called, from where he was restraining the restaurant owner, handcuffing him to a support beam, sounding as if he were speaking behind thick glass.

"I don't think so," she shouted back. She turned her attention back to Fitz. "Does anything hurt?" She demanded insistently pressing her hands against his torso to feel for any injury.

She tried to tell herself he was fine but she wasn't entirely sure.

The gun had been pointed at his chest, only inches away from his heart and lungs, ready to fire a bullet that could rip through flesh as easily as a fish swam through water. He'd had a gun pointed at his chest and she hadn't been able to breath, to do anything except watch helplessly.

Ward had saved him though, reacted the way years of training and experience had conditioned him to, bolting towards the man and knocking his arm so that the shot hit the ceiling instead of Fitz. Simmons was pretty sure, at least, that that was what had happened, but it had been so quick, a blur of movement, that she needed to be certain Ward had reached him in time, that Fitz hadn't been hit.

He didn't seem to be bleeding and he was snapping out of it, blinking several times before shaking his head. "What?" He yelled.

"Are you OK?" She shouted back.

"Yes," he answered, realizing her concern. "I'm fine. You?"

She didn't answer, instead she let out a sigh of relief and rocketed forward to hug him. He stumbled back a little from the sudden shift in weight but righted himself quickly and, after a brief hesitation, returned the embrace.

"So, yes?" He guessed loudly.

She gave him a tight squeeze before pulling back, hand gripping his shoulder. "Don't ever do that again," she warned fiercely. It had been incredibly stupid, to jump at someone with a gun like that. Had everyone remained still, there was a chance he wouldn't have fired at all.

Their eyes met and she wondered if he could see how scared she'd been. He seemed about to say something but they were distracted when Ward spoke instead.

"Come out slowly," he ordered, not menacing exactly but definitely not leaving room for disobedience. His gun was raised.

"Don't shoot me," someone squeaked and they saw a teenage boy rise from behind the counter. "I was hiding, he's... he was crazy... he was gonna..." He spotted the man and stopped, letting out a gasp.

"It's OK, we've got him," Ward assured him, lowering his gun, the sound of his voice clearer as the ringing stopped and Simmons' hearing returned.

"I'll kill all of you you no good thieves!" The man spat, furious, struggling against his the cuffs.

The boy flinched, recoiling away from him.

"Maybe we could talk outside," Skye suggested gently, gesturing for him to follow her. "What's your name?"

"Felix," he told her squeakily.

"I'm Skye," they heard her answer as she led him out the door.

Simmons watched them go, wondering if she should follow, but Ward called her name before she could make a decision.

"Simmons, can you tell us what's wrong with him?" He asked.

Something was certainly wrong with him, even if she didn't know what yet, he wasn't making any sense.

"Asking for chocolate, how do I have chocolate? It's a lie, it's not... I don't understand, I painted the walls years ago," he rambled.

She knelt down in front of him, keeping her distance in case he became violent again, but close enough to get a good look at him. His skin wasn't right, wrinkled in some parts but contrastingly smooth in others, as if two faces from people of different ages had been mashed together and his hair was spotted with grey, not streaked as it would have been naturally. He hadn't been like that a few minutes ago, she would have noticed.

"Be careful," Fitz warned, hovering at her shoulder.

"Fitz you should go find May and Coulson," Ward instructed, causing Simmons to gaze anxiously back and forth between the two of them.

"It's not safe, going off on our own," she protested.

"I'll be fine," Fitz assured her, slightly offended.

What did he think needed proving? She knew he was brave, Ward knew it and she didn't think he was too concerned with what the diner's owner thought of him, so what was the point his bravado?

"We have no idea what this is," she objected. "It could be a virus, more people could be infected."

"We need to get May and Coulson," Ward pressed. "And I can't leave you and Skye alone with him," he jerked his head to the man he had restrained. "You need to figure out what's happening to him and Skye is talking to the witness, so that leaves Fitz."

Simmons frowned at him, feeling an irrational pang of dislike towards her teammate.

'He's only reasoning through the best plan of action,' she told herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling, however hard she tried and it felt as if it was more than just what was happening in that moment.

Fitz squeezed her shoulder, familiar and comforting, waking her from her thoughts.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. "You wont even have time to be lonely," he teased and she smiled as he drew his hand away, turning to watch him leave, her heart tugging towards him, before returning her attention to the man.

/-/-/

Ward watched Simmons examine the man, hoping she could figure out what was wrong with him and fighting down waves of uneasiness.

He'd been afraid, when the man had pointed a gun at Simmons and then at Fitz, something inside of him had blared out an alarm along with flashing red lights. The idea of either of them being hurt... scared him. Which completely terrified him, because he wasn't suppose to care, not this much.

And then there was the look Simmons had given him, clear dislike, almost loathing. He'd never seen her look at anyone like that before. Fitz hadn't noticed, she'd had her back turned to him, and he wasn't sure she realized the expression she'd had either.

'She was worried about Fitz,' he told himself. 'Those two are tighter than sailors' knots, she's probably just upset by the idea of him being hurt. He was almost shot only a minute ago and now I'm telling him to go off on his own when we have no idea what's going on. She can be a little angry about that, even if it's necessary.'

It seemed like it was more than that though.

"I need to take some tissue samples," she announced, waking him from his thoughts and sounding like her old self again. "Would it be possible for you to hold him still."

"Do you want me to ICE him?" Ward inquired, reaching for an ICER.

She hesitated, probably not liking the idea of shooting someone who was tied up and defenseless, even if he was struggling and shouting nonsense at them. "I think that might be... best," she answered tentatively.

"Back up," he ordered and she complied, wincing as the ICER went off and the bullet struck him. "It's for his own good," he reminded her. "So you can fix him."

"Right," she said tightly, getting back to work.

"So any ideas," he inquired as she swabbed the inside of his cheek.

She made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "One, but it's a little... unusual."

"What about what we do is usual?" He chuckled and she smiled.

"Look at his pupils," she instructed, pulling open an eye and shining a pocket light into it. "There are two."

He leaned in and saw immediately what she was referring to. The black in the center of his eye was doubled, two dark, overlapping circles, rather than one round one.

"That, coupled with the patches of grey in his hair and the pattern of young and old skin on his body, and added to his ramblings about things being different... about the year..." she bit her lip. "I think that... maybe... this man might be fusing with his older self."

"Is that possible?" Ward asked, narrowing his eyes. It seemed unbelievable but he trusted Simmons' judgment.

She shook her head. "A year ago I might have said it wasn't but... the things we've seen... I don't know, maybe."

"Alright," he accepted, going with her idea for the moment. "How would something like that happen?"

Without warning she shot to her feet, stumbling backwards and crying out as she held her head.

"Are you OK?" He asked, stepping towards her.

"Stay the hell away from me," she snarled, glaring at him with undisguised loathing, placing an arm out defensively while keeping one hand on the side of her head. It looked like it hurt.

"Woah, it's me," he told her, raising his hands to show her he meant no harm, worried that whatever was happening to the man was now happening to her too.

"I know who you are," she barked and the way she was looking at him, it made no sense, it was impossible, but he was certain.

She knew.

Ward froze, not knowing what to do. Skye was just outside, talking to Felix, and if he fired at Simmons she'd hear, she'd wonder why he did it, even with an ICER.

But he had the perfect answer, didn't he? She had caught whatever the man who owned the diner had, he'd had to shoot her, she'd attacked him.

Even though he didn't want to, he reached for the ICER, however before he could even touch the weapon she wobbled. She looked sick and he thought that maybe she was going to throw up, but instead her eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the ground with a loud thud.

/-/-/

"Me and my sister were just passing through," Felix explained, sitting on the side of the sidewalk beside Skye, hugging his knees. "Have you seen her?" He asked, desperate. "Her name's Sarah, she's a little shorter than me, we have the same hair... but hers is longer...," he stared, pleadingly at Skye who had to shake her head.

"No, I'm sorry," she answered. "But we'll find her," she promised. "I just need you to tell me what happened first."

Felix told her how their car had stopped working, about seeing the plane crash and then trying to help but finding no survivors. His eyes were bright and he paled as he went through it.

'Poor kid,' Skye thought, sympathetic. 'He must be scared out of his mind.'

"We decided to walk to town," he went on shakily. "Find someone who could help us, and we reached the diner first. Sarah... she... she gave me some money and told me to get something to eat because she'd spotted the police station down the street. I ordered, and I waited but she didn't come back..." he swallowed. "I should have gone to find her, what if something happened... what if..."

"I'm sure she's fine," Skye assured him, even though she wasn't. She really hoped she was right.

He nodded hazily. "Uh huh."

"Then the man attacked you?" Skye pried gently.

He nodded again, silent, staring into nothing and hugging his knees a little tighter.

Skye risked placing a hand on his back and he didn't protest so she left it there for a moment, offering a crumb of comfort.

"Fee?" Someone called and he perked up, smiling in recognition before leaping to his feet.

A woman, mid-twenties, who looked a lot like him, rushed forward and gave him a quick hug. Fitz, May and Coulson trailed closely behind her.

"I'm so sorry," the woman, who Skye guessed must have been Sarah, apologized, pulling back to take a look at him. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he told her.

She shook her head, obviously shaken. "I wanted to come back but... I was hiding. The police weren't right, they... um...," it looked as if she were struggling to censor herself but she soon gave up. "They were going to shoot me Fee," she told him, serious. "Something is really wrong here."

"I know," he answered dully and her expression softened.

"We'll be OK," she assured him. "SHIELD is here."

"Right, we're the good guys, we're going to save the day," Skye grinned and he smiled back. She got the feeling she'd earned his trust.

"Is the man inside?" May asked quietly, coming to stand beside her.

"Yeah, Simmons is checking him out while Ward stands watch," Skye whispered.

There was a thud from inside the diner.

"Skye," Ward called. "I need help in here." His tone was tense, something was wrong.

"Simmons?!" Fitz exclaimed, a panicked expression widening his eyes as he darted inside, bursting through the door.

After exchanging a worried glance with May and Coulson, Skye followed him.

"Wait here," May instructed the siblings as she and Coulson quickly joined her.

Simmons was laying on the floor, unconscious, as if she had fallen, and Ward stood over her, appearing unsure what to do.

Fitz shoved past him, either oblivious to how rude he was being or not caring, and dropped to his knees.

"What happened to her?" He demanded, eyes glued to Simmons.

Skye found she couldn't look away either. Her friend was still but breathing evenly, she could have been sleeping except that all the noise Fitz had made rushing in calling for answers would have woken her if she had been.

"She went crazy," Ward explained as Fitz yanked his arms out of his jacket, folding it and gently lifting Simmons' head to tuck it underneath. Skye thought he might have cradled it in his hands for just a moment longer than he needed to, gaze never leaving her face. "She was shouting at me," Ward continued, "not making any sense and then she collapsed."

"Did she touch the owner?" May asked, Fitz must have filled them in on the way over.

"Did she say anything about what's causing this?" Coulson added. "Could she have contracted something from him?"

"She said it could be a virus," Ward offered.

Skye's chest tightened. This sounded too familiar.

She knelt down, beside her friend, resisting the urge to take her hand in case whatever she had was contagious and hoping Fitz hadn't caught it from lifting her head.

"You have to stop doing this Jemma," he murmured, quiet enough it might have been only for Simmons. "You've got to be more careful."

He reached forward, about to take her hand.

"Don't," Skye warned, catching his wrist. "You could catch it."

Fitz pulled his arm away, twisting out of her grasp. "Yeah... right," he mumbled.

Simmons scrunched her eyes, grimacing before they slowly opened.

"She's waking up," Skye announced, drawing their team's attention, relief like a weight off her shoulders.

Ward's expression darkened and Skye suspected he was worried about what she was going to be like now that she was awake. Would she be violent, not making any sense, the way the diner's owner had been?

"Hey," Fitz smiled gently, forgetting himself and placing a hand over hers.

She blinked a few times but seemed to recognize him and stared up, meeting his eyes, confused.

"Fitz?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe reference is the double pupils. This happens to the people in the town of Westfield in the episode Welcome to Westfield.
> 
> I have never written Ward's POV before, nor do I really think I get him, so feel free to tell me if you liked or didn't like what I did with him.


	4. Simmons 2.0

Simmons was frozen, staring up at Fitz in complete bewilderment. Eyes darting back and forth across his face as if she could find an answer there.

"What are you doing here?" She gasped after a moment, almost frightened.

Fitz was about as confused as she was. "Well... um..." he stumbled. "I went to find Coulson and May, like Ward told me to, and then I-"

"What?" She hissed, bolting upright so that Fitz had to dart out of her way to avoid their heads colliding, though he still kept ahold of her hand, looking increasingly concerned. "Where am I...?" she frowned as her gaze rested on Skye. "Why is your hair like that?" she asked before understanding glimmered just behind her eyes. "Oh... right..." She held her head, wincing. "That hurt more than I expected it to. I wasn't counting on the brief memory loss either, I hope I haven't done any damage... not that it matters in the long run... none of this-" She stopped herself, noticing the group of uncertain faces surrounding her.

"She has it, doesn't she?" Fitz lamented, glaring accusingly at the tied up diner owner, as if this were all his fault. "Don't worry Simmons!" He assured her loudly. "We'll fix it!"

"Stop yelling, my hearing is fine," she snapped, uncharacteristically harsh. She looked down at their linked hands, a dreary sadness clouding her expression, and pulled hers away, averting her gaze from Fitz and addressing the rest of the team instead, eyes darkening for a moment when they rested on Ward before she grit her teeth and moved on. "Forget what I said, I'm not infected. It isn't a virus."

'Easier said than done,' Skye thought. What memory loss? What the hell was happening? And what was wrong with her hair?

"How do you know that?" Ward asked suspiciously, probably thinking that this was more crazy rambling.

Whatever had happened to her must have put her in a seriously bad mood or something because the look she gave Ward was so unlike Simmons that for moment Skye didn't recognize her.

Simmons huffed and pressed her lips together, struggling with something before turning to May and Coulson so that her back was facing Fitz. "I'm not... I'm not like him," she asserted, tilting her head towards the owner. "Not exactly. I'm not going to go crazy like he did because-" she shook her head. "I'll explain it later if I have time, but all you need to know now is that I'm..." she paused. "There really is no way to say this without it sounding made up... I wouldn't have believed it..."

"Believed what?" May pressed, raising an eyebrow.

Whatever was happening to Simmons, Skye reflected, she did seem a lot more coherent than the diner's owner. He'd been making sense too though, before he hadn't been.

Simmons sighed, back still turned on Fitz who seemed torn between being hurt and being offended. Why was she leaving him out of the conversation like that?

"I'm from the future," she replied, serious as shot to the gut. Skye would know, ouch.

May and Coulson exchanged an uncertain glance and Skye tried to catch Ward's eye, raising her eyebrows questioningly, wondering if it was possible, but he was locked on Simmons. "I know... it sounds a bit fantastical..." she went on, defensive. "But... you're just going to need to trust me." She motioned to the owner. "Look what's already occured, what we've already seen. Sir," she spoke to Coulson directly. "You of all people must know that even what seems impossible can happen."

Coulson stared back at her, processing what she was telling him, and Skye wondered if she was talking about how he'd come back from the dead.

"Why do you have the same clothes then?" Fitz demanded, arms crossed, obviously sore that he was being ignored.

 _"I'm_ from the future," she explained. "The body is not."

"You mean Simmons," he retorted defensively. "Her name is Jemma Simmons not 'the body'"

"I _am_ Jemma Simmons," she countered impatiently.

He huffed. "So you say. You're a bit rude, Simmons always has good manners." He looked to May and Coulson. "How do we know this isn't some invasion of the body snatchers scenario?"

"The old movie? Or the knock off one that has a bunch of high school kids with Jon Stewart as a science teacher?" Skye wondered, excited at the idea for a minute before she realized it would be super not fun to have Simmons possessed by an evil alien.

May frowned disapprovingly at her.

"Never mind," she mumbled.

Simmons blew out another breath, clearly frustrated and still not facing Fitz. "We don't have time for this, we need to find the pulse generator and turn it off before more people like him," she gestured once again to the owner. "Tear us to pieces."

She stood and walked over to Coulson. "Before we do that though... sir," her expression was stony. "You should know that you've put your trust somewhere it doesn't belong."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, eyes narrowing.

Was it Skye's imagination or was Ward's hand drifting towards his gun?

"Where are Dr. Leaky and Dr. Niehaus?" Simmons inquired and the other agent visibly relaxed.

"Back at the police station," Coulson answered. "Why?"

"They've been lying to you," she let him know firmly. "They know more than they've let on and we need to make it clear that if the military doesn't stop mucking around, trying to cover its tracks, we're going to have a global catastrophe on our hands."

"Hold on," Fitz grumbled. "You still haven't proven we can trust _you_ yet. How do we know you're really Simmons?"

Her chest and shoulders rose from the deepth of her sigh and she spun around, acknowledging him at last. "Because I knew the dog would run," she said irritably. "Is that answer satisfactory? Can we please we move on?"

Fitz stared back as if he'd been slapped in the face. "Yeah... OK," he mumbled. He definitely sounded hurt.

Simmons softened, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," she murmured, staring at the floor, her eyes bright before she blinked roughly.

That was... weird. But Fitz seemed to trust her now at least, even if he'd taken up her strategy and was avoiding eye contact.

May and Coulson seemed to be reading the same thing and nodded. "Let's go find Leaky and Niehaus," Coulson ordered. "Ward, you can stay here with the owner."

"There are too many of them," Simmons objected, casting Ward another sour look. (What was her problem with him and Fitz? Did they get into some huge fight in the future?) "We don't have enough people to guard them all and we'll be safer together."

"Alright then," Coulson agreed, allowing her to take point. "We stick together."

They left the diner, gathering up Felix and Sarah. May quietly briefed them on what had happened and Skye wondered exactly how much detail she was going into. Simmons' story was completely unbelievable but, the siblings had seen plenty of freaky and unbelievable in the last while. They'd probably sleep with the lights on for a long time to come, or at least have a nightlight.

Fitz shuffled behind and Skye hung back so she could fall in step beside him.

"That was weird," she chuckled, trying to 'turn his frown upsidedown' and searching for answers. "You sure that's Simmons?"

He nodded unhappily. "Someday it will be, I guess."

"What was that thing she said to you?" Skye wondered, puzzled as to why he'd suddenly changed his tune. "Something about a dog..."

"That she knew the dog would run," Fitz finished grumpily. "It's a... it was something just between us," he told her, scowling. "It means she knew it would work, whatever it is."

"And no one else would know that?" Skye pressed.

He shook his head. "It's her."

"She's a little-" Skye began.

"Detached?" Fitz suggested.

"Different," Skye finished.

He shrugged. "People change I guess," he muttered.

He didn't seem at all happy about it.

/-/-/

Dr. Leaky and Dr. Niehaus were inside the station examining the police officers who were also tied up and unconscious. May had explained to him that she'd used an ICER to take them out when Fitz had first gone to find her and Coulson.

"I want the truth," Coulson demanded bluntly as the team entered, Felix and Sarah following nervously, causing the pair of scientists to look up in surprise from their work. "Tell me everything you know about what's happening here."

"Agent Coulson, sir," Dr. Leaky frowned, raising her hands defensively. "We've already-"

"Six, nine, alpha, echo, four," Simmons chanted briskly, interrupting her.

She had a code for everyone didn't she? Fitz had been foolish, thinking he was special. She was still avoiding him and he was having trouble shaking the feeling that, to this future Simmons, he wasn't much at all.

Dr. Leaky narrowed her eyes. "Who-"

"Colonel Oh," Simmons replied flatly. "He and Coulson sent me on this mission."

"You're from the future then," Dr. Niehaus guessed, far less shocked than he should have been at that revelation and Simmons nodded curtly. "I suspect that means things are going to get worse."

"Probably," Simmons agreed.

"Probably?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know," Simmons admitted. "Time travel is... complicated. I don't remember what happened in here, or what's going to happen... neither does my leader or Colonol Oh. All we know is that rip doesn't close and now, in my time, it's become a global threat."

"And you think that your being here is going to change that?" Dr. Leaky questioned, skeptical.

She shrugged. "That's what we're hoping. I've already changed your directive haven't I?"

"Time out," Coulson interjected, making a T with his hands. "Directive? You were only here to cover this up?" He accused the scientists. "Not to... fix it?"

"We were told to fix it quietly," Dr. Niehaus explained.

"By keeping secrets from SHIELD?" he demanded, aghast.

The pair looked away uncomfortably and nodded.

"Obviously that isn't going to work," Dr. Leaky commented.

Simmons scoffed. "No, it isn't."

Dr. Niehaus sighed. "It was an experiment," he began. "We were trying to create a device that would allow travel through time. It would allow us to predict the future, remain several steps ahead of our enemies."

"Or, you know, watch the entire season of your favourite show instead of having to wait every week for a new episode," Skye grinned. Ward, May and Coulson turned to her eyebrows raised. "Or... stay ahead of the people you want dead... that's fun too." She finished before falling silent.

"We were hoping the technology would prevent deaths," Dr. Leaky told her. "One of our scientists was testing the machine in a small plane. We thought that altitude might help increase the pulse, allow it to spread out in a circle rather than a dome as it would if we tested it on the ground."

Fitz nodded. "It's the same reason nuclear bombs will be detonated before landing," he agreed. The other glanced at him briefly, acknowledging his statement. All except Simmons and he felt as if something sour and rotten were leaking down his throat. What was going to happen between them that she couldn't even look at him?

"But the pilot crashed," Dr. Leaky went on. "After the machine was turned on, it began draining power from everything and he lost control. The engine shut off and he went down somewhere near Westfield. We were tasked with retrieving the machine from the wreckage."

Two plane crashes in one day? This mission was full of unlikely occurrences.

"Do you have any idea where it landed?" Coulson asked.

She shook her head. "We lost communications shortly after it was turned on."

"And any witnesses will be like our diner owner," Coulson sighed.

"That's not true," Simmons disagreed. "Time is on its head here, so to speak," she informed him. "The town now and the town twenty years from now are fusing together, buildings, streets, people... but if there are people here who wont be here twenty years from now- because they've died or moved away-"

"Then they won't be affected," Fitz realized, annoyed that she hadn't explained this earlier. It must have been the reason none of their team, the siblings, or the two scientists, had began going crazy. "And you're from then?" He demanded. "From twenty years in the future."

"No, I'm a bit closer than that," she mumbled, infuriatingly unwilling to face him. He could have been a voice in her head the way she was treating him.

'I'm not the person you know then,' he thought hotly. 'It isn't fair for you to act as if I am, especially when I can help.'

He didn't want whatever this was to happen, didn't want the rift that clearly formed between them, but, for the moment, he'd have settled with her acting as if it hadn't, not yet anyway.

"We better go find some witnesses then," May decided, cutting into his thoughts. "Where do we start?"

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe reference is the "I knew the dog would run" which is a slight modification of Walter and William Bell's code "I knew the dog wouldn't run" which meant that they knew the experiment wouldn't work. Bell and Walter were kinda like the Fringe equivalent of FitzSimmons... except kind of more mad scientist and less benevolent. They were BFFs who did crazy science together and worked really well as a team.
> 
> The whole thing with the bombs is what I remember from High School history class, learning about the ship explosion a long time ago in the Halifax harbor. Apparently, because the ship was floating on water, the gun powder was able to explode in all directions and it made the explosion bigger or something (and they later made bombs detonate before hitting the ground, designed after it). I have been told that nucleur bombs were designed to detonate before they hit the ground after this idea.
> 
> Also future Simmons, I know, doesn't act in the show (season 2) like the one I'm writing. I was trying to write future Simmons in a place she didn't really want to be, having to face things she's trying not to think about. So she's angry-doesn't-want-to-be-there-but-has-to-so-she's-in-mission-mode future Simmons. I hope that turned out OK. haha.
> 
> Colonel Oh is named for Sandra Oh (who plays Cristina Yang in Grey's Anatomy).
> 
> The movie Skye is talking about, the 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers knock off' is called The Faculty. I saw it on Space a few weeks ago. It was fun.


	5. The Locals

The first place they searched was a nearby grocery store. They'd decided it would be an ideal starting point because both they and the potential survivors would need food and water.

Coulson and May had taken charge again while Simmons faded back, avoiding the others, lingering around them like a shadow, even after they'd been divided into groups. May, Skye, Sarah and Felix were in one and Ward, Fitz and Simmons were in another. Coulson was supervising Niehaus and Leaky.

"Is she safe, all the way back there?" Fitz asked worriedly as he pushed the half-filled shoping cart down the canned foods aisle next to Ward, glad for the windows that lined the ceiling, allowing sunlight to shine into the building, even if it left grey gloom between the shelves.

Simmons was helping them gather food (because they had no idea how long they would be trapped in the town) but she was lagging an alarming distance behind, taking her time to gather armfuls of cans before returning to the cart. On top of that, she still wouldn't look at him, at either of them, she was still acting as if they were something vile she couldn't stand to lay her sights on.

"She'll be fine," Ward assured him, but his expression said something else when he twisted around to glance back at her. He clearly didn't trust her.

Which was fair, but unnecessary. She was Simmons, he was certain of that, and so trust wasn't the issue. What the actual issue was, he hadn't a clue, because she was avoiding them like the plague and not bothering to offer up an explanation why. Didn't she care how unsettling it was? Perhaps she was afraid of consequences, of wreaking havoc on the future by talking to them about it, but then why the particular aversion to him and the specialist? Why did she glare at Ward and draw away from Fitz as if he were poison?

"I just think we should stick together," he replied loudly, hoping his voice would carry over to her however, though he knew she'd heard him, she ignored him and continued to read the label on one of the cans as she carried her current collection back to the cart. "In case something happens," he went on, aiming his words at her as if they were nestled inside paper airplanes, "like if one of those messed up zombie things comes back."

"Don't call them that, it isn't their fault they're the way they are," she scolded absently, eyes on her cans as she placed them in with the ones he and Ward had gathered, clunking them against each other. "They're people Fitz, just like us."

"That wasn't my point," he shot back but she was already walking away, her back turned on both of them.

He grunted, annoyed, as he watched her leave. 'Sure, you'll notice me if you need to complain about something I've said,' he thought, prickling.

"She's right," Ward told him, tossing in a few more cans. "The people here are sick, they aren't in control of themselves anymore."

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, feeling ganged up on. He hadn't meant to insult anyone, he'd only meant to point out the imminent threat of being shot at or torn to pieces.

Ward's voice lowered and he leaned towards Fitz, eyes darkening. "And Simmons might be sick too."

Fitz frowned, shaking his head. That was ridiculous. "She's just wound up about something she doesn't want to talk about, _not_ that that makes it alright to take it out on us," he added grumpily.

"But she's different, isn't she?" He pressed in a whisper.

"Well, yeah, but she's from the future," Fitz whispered back, unsure where this conversation was going.

"That's why she's giving us the cold shoulder?" He questioned, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Fitz narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying...?"

"I'm saying," Ward told him quietly. "That we should keep an eye on her, tell each other if she starts acting strange. For her own protection, we don't want her getting hurt... or hurting someone else."

Fitz swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling as if it had swelled up. "Well that's... that's just ridiculous. She's not sick," he insisted stubbornly.

"You can't protect her with denial," Ward reasoned, his gaze softening as he turned sympathetic. "Didn't she tell us she didn't expect the process to hurt? Didn't expect the short term memory loss? That she was worried about having done damage?"

The can of beans on top of their pile was suddenly incredibly fascinating.

"Let's just keep an eye on her, OK?" He requested, giving Fitz a nudge and tilting his head, searching his face and silently asking for his understanding, when Fitz grudgingly glanced up at him. "Just in case."

He sighed, looking over his shoulder to where Simmons had gathered another armful of canned fruit. She didn't seem sick, but she could be. Ward was right, denying the possibility wasn't going to prevent it from becoming a reality and, whatever she felt about him, he couldn't let anything happen to her. She was his best friend, whether he was hers or not.

"OK," he agreed heavily, turning back to Ward. "I'll tell you if I see anything out of the ordinary."

/-/-/

"So... you're a secret agent?" Felix asked, hovering around Skye as she rolled the cart towards the bottled water.

"In training," she told him because she didn't really feel like she could call herself an agent just yet. It wasn't official or anything.

He grinned, impressed anyway. "Cool."

She laughed. "Yeah, it is pretty cool." She agreed, grinning back as she remembered all the things she'd seen during her time with SHIELD, things most people never would. "This one time we were called to investigate a body- that was _floating_." She tilted closer to him, raising her eyebrows and exaggerating the final word.

Felix's eyes widened, shining with excitement, hungry for more.

"Why was it floating?" He wondered.

"If we told you that, we'd have to kill you," May said flatly, smoothly setting down a large package of water bottles at the bottom of their cart.

Felix gulped, sobering, and Skye playfully hit his shoulder, shaking her head and smiling reassuringly. "She's kidding," she told him, even though she didn't really think she was. "... but... it is classified so..."

He zipped his lips, clearly still taking May seriously. "Got it."

"Are you causing trouble?" Sarah scolded, heaving another box on top of May's. It looked a lot heavier when she did it, May made it look easy.

"No, I was just-" He protested but he stopped, letting out a gasp and staring ahead, terrified.

The other three followed his gaze to see a woman about ten meters away at the front of the aisle, pointing a rifle at them, finger on the trigger.

Sarah stepped in front of her brother, pushing him behind her with one arm and May swiftly placed herself between the weapon and all of them, appearing much calmer than Skye felt.

"Put the gun down," she ordered steadily, sounding as if she were expecting to be obeyed.

To Skye's astonishment, she was. The woman, very slowly, began to lower the gun.

"You... you aren't... you haven't gone crazy?" She asked shakily, chewing on her lip uneasily as she waited for an answer.

"No, we're SHIELD," May told her evenly. "We're here to help."

She sighed and her body visibly relaxed, Skye hadn't noticed how rigid she'd been until she'd loosened her posture. It was like a spaghetti noodle, softening as it boiled.

"Oh thank God," she breathed. "How many of you are there? Are you here to rescue us?"

"We're here to stop what's happening," May informed her, taking a cautious step forward. "We have six agents, two military and two civilians with us." Skye realized that she'd counted her as one of the agents and, despite everything that was happening, felt a flicker of pride. Coming from May, that meant a lot. "How many people are with you?"

"Almost everyone who isn't sick is gathered at David Jones High School," she let them know, walking towards them in hesitant steps with her gun at her side. "I came with a small group to gather supplies."

"Can you take us to them?" May inquired.

She nodded.

"Good," May said, nodding back. "We'll gather up our team. Have you ever handled a gun before?"

The question took Skye by surprise but the woman smiled weakly, shaking her head and seeming incredibly tired.

"No."

"Let me give you a quick tip then," she offered, bridging the rest of the distance between them.

"How many more survivors do you think there are?" Felix whispered, pulling Skye's attention away from May's short lesson. "Do you think any of the them saw the plane crash?"

"I hope so," she answered, because if none of them had, they'd need to come up with a new plan to help these people who were obviously scared and probably in over their heads.

/-/-/

They were led by the small group a few blocks away to the school. The front entrance was patrolled by a pair of armed civilians who perked up, curious, at the sight of new people and whose faces lit with hope when they found out who they were.

Simmons had to believe they wouldn't let them down.

The woman from the grocery store, Dana Grey, brought them to the football field and left them there while she went to gather the rest of the survivors.

"Are you up for explaining what's happening?" Coulson asked, watching her patiently for an answer.

She nodded dully, wishing she could muster up a little more enthusiasm to show to her leader, but the sight of all these people flooding into the area and the thought of the billions of other people who were depending on them, was weighing her down like a ton of stones.

Searching for comfort, she risked a glance at Fitz who was sitting between Ward and Skye in the front row of the bleachers, completely at ease only inches away from his almost executioner. He had no idea, none of them did, and it tore at her to allow them all to continue on with their blind trust, the same way it was ripping at her heart to keep a barrier between Fitz and herself, but she had no choice. It wasn't what she had come for.

Not at all reassured, she pushed back a loose lock of her hair and tugged nervously at her fingers, staring at the sky just above the top row of seats, as she waited to begin.

'There's nothing to be worried about,' she told herself. 'Just treat it like a presentation, or a report of your work to your team. You've done plenty of those.'

Butterflies continued to flutter around unhelpfully inside of her.

Once most of the seats had been filled, she made her way to the center of them, standing a few meters back, and addressed the gathered crowd.

"Hello," she began, doing her best to sound confident. 'You can do this,' she told herself. 'You've handled far worse.' "I know you're all frightened and confused and that many of you are likely grieving family or friends, but believe me when I tell you there is hope."

"I heard this was time travel," Someone shouted fearfully and Simmons guessed the rumors had already began spreading.

"It is," she told him. "Someone built a machine to travel through time, but it went wrong and it's created an anomaly, right here, around this town, a sort of..." she made a ball with her hands. "Bubble. The town now and the town twenty years from now are fusing together..."

She went on to explain everything she and the two military scientists had already told her team, glazing over Leaky and Niehaus's involvement, wanting to avoid unnecessary conflict. It struck her that her tale must sound like a fantasy, that time travel and fusing realities were likely far beyond what anyone there had ever thought possible. However no one protested, no one voiced their skeptisism and she had the feeling they'd seen enough unbelievable things already to begin believing in the impossible. Just as she had.

"What about the people who have gone crazy?" A woman wanted to know, standing up so that Simmons could make her out, weary and desperate amongst the crowd. "Are you saying they're beyond saving?"

"No," she answered clearly. "No one here is beyond saving. If we succeed, if we manage to turn off the device, time will be reset and none of this will have happened. You'll all be able to go back to your lives, nothing will be different." She paused, glancing around and waiting for that piece of information to sink in. It was news to her team too and she carefully watched their reactions. May was unreadable, as was Coulson. Skye seemed relieved, likely glad that they had a chance of saving everyone. Ward seemed relieved as well, however she guessed his reasons differed from hers.

Fitz had narrowed his eyes and was scowling at her, probably irritated that she hadn't shared this detail sooner. She had his trust now, however, he remained hostile, almost angry and, even though she knew it was probably her own fault, she couldn't help the ball of frustration and hurt growing in her gut.

"We can fix this, but we need your help," she went on, shifting her attention back to the crowd, forcing her feelings aside. "We're looking for a plane, a small one, that went down somewhere nearby. The machine was on board and we need to find it so we can turn it off."

"Edna saw a plane go down behind her house, didn't you Edna?" A man pipped up, turning to the elderly woman beside him.

"It crashed further away than that," she elaborated. "A good ways into Hunter's Woods. It landed just past the hill."

"That's a good five, six mile hike," a woman called from a few seats away. "I can take you there in the morning, but it's too dangerous to go now, it'll be dark soon."

"I'll come too," a man offered.

"Me too," Someone else joined in and soon they had about a dozen volunteers, ready to take them to the wreckage.

"Good," Simmons nodded, smiling gratefully at them. "Thank you. We can leave first thing in the morning," she gazed at Coulson who nodded, then turned her attention back to their volunteers. "Meet us in the field at the sunrise. We'll find the plane, turn off the machine, and all of this will be over."

A knot formed in her stomach but she ignored it. She couldn't let her mind wander, couldn't allow herself to be distracted by her own vicious demons. Everyone was depending on her, failure was not an option.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are actually two Fringe references in this chapter. They are the names Dana Grey, which I may have used before and is from the episode _The Stowaway_ , she is the woman who couldn't die and David (Robert) Jones, which is the name of one of the main villains in the first and fourth season.
> 
> If you read the six sentence Sunday on tumblr, it is in the next chapter haha. There are still a few things I need to fit in before that scene.


	6. The Words on the Wall

The sun was setting and they'd moved inside to eat the meal which had been prepared by a group of the survivors.

Simmons waited in line to be served her portion of the spaghetti, gazing around the candle-lit gymnasium at the packets of people huddled together to eat and take comfort in each other. Some seemed to be families, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, extending into grandparents and aunts and everything that fell between, of all mixes and ages. Others looked like friends or coworkers or even strangers, clinging to the warmth and courage that came out of hearing another being's voice, feeling another person's touch.

Her gaze rested on Fitz who sat alone, twirling noodles onto his fork and watching the bustle of activity around him.

He still seemed upset, mouth set in a thin line, slouching as he picked away at his plate, and she knew that she was being unfair, that her actions were causing him distress, making him lose focus. She'd been avoiding him for her own sake, because _she_ needed to keep herself in check, to keep doing what needed to be done without risking a distraction, but he counted just as much as she did and they couldn't afford to have one of their own with his mind on something else.

That, and it hurt to know that she was hurting him, even if it had been, in her mind, for his own good. For everyone's own good.

Clearly, she'd made a mistake, and steeling herself with a deep intake of breath, she set out to fix it.

"Fitz?" she called, abandoning her place in line and weaving through the crowd to stand over him. He lifted his head to stare up at her, still looking sour. Her words stuck in her throat but she forced them up. "I-" she began quietly.

"When is our Simmons coming back?" he interrupted sharply, cutting away at her resolve.

"N-not until this is over I'm afraid," she squeaked apologetically, unsure why she was apologizing. Yes, she had taken the body of her own free will, but it was _her_ body. She _was_ their Simmons... or at least she would be, and it stung that Fitz wasn't accepting her, even if she could reason that it was because of the way she'd been treating him, because she hadn't been herself and he wasn't really seeing the person she was. He couldn't, she wasn't allowing him too.

His mouth twitched. "Oh." He seemed disappointed, he didn't want her there and she couldn't do this, she'd thought she could, but she couldn't.

She was beginning to unravel and she needed to keep herself in one piece. Her team still needed her, everyone in Westfield needed her, _Fitz_ needed her to stay on task. Their lives were depending on it so she blinked roughly, keeping the brunt of her tears behind her eyelids and hurried away.

She left the gymnasium, no longer hungry, and sped down the hallway, the hot stones in her throat moving up, threatening to push out the salty ocean of tears that waited behind her eyes.

'It'll be over soon,' she remembered, chest painful and tight. 'It'll all be over very soon.'

She couldn't keep it in any longer so she broke into a run, searching for an empty room to hide in so she could break without anyone seeing.

/-/-/

Ward saw Simmons leave the gymnasium on her own and realized this was his chance to find out what she knew, why she had kept his secret up until this point.

Ensuring he wasn't seen, he crept out into the hallway and searched until he spotted her exiting one of the classrooms, softly shutting the door behind her.

Hastily, he grabbed her arm with well practiced subtlety and, unsurprised, she allowed him to lead her back into the empty room.

"Nervous are we?" she taunted, almost amused as he anxiously searched the halls for witnesses then shut the blinds, locking the door before whipping around to face her.

She stood a few feet away, beside one of the desks, defiance obvious even in the dim, fading sunlight that leaked in through the window.

"What do you know?" he demanded, bringing himself up to his full height and lowering his voice so his words came out as a quiet growl.

He wanted to scare her, let her know he'd hurt her if he had to (he would, he kept telling himself he would if that was what it took to protect his cover, despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept insisting he wouldn't be able to).

She remained unimpressed.

"It doesn't matter," she shrugged, lifting her head to meet his gaze and crossing her arms.

She wasn't intimidated, he could tell by the way she held herself, standing tall and leaning slightly on one foot while the other fidgeted impatiently.

Agitated, he pulled out his gun and pointed it between her eyes. She was _going_ to take him seriously, whenever she was from, whatever she knew.

Simmons frowned, turning cold and dark like a late autumn night. "I'm not afraid of you," she whispered icily and he could see that she wasn't. She didn't flinch away from him, her pupils didn't constrict and her breathing remained even, calm. He'd seen people get this way before, hallow and fearless, when they had nothing left to lose. It made them hard to control, made them dangerous. "There's nothing you can do to me, I'm a ghost," she told him. "None of this is real."

He couldn't ever remembering being so unnerved by someone he'd pegged so consistently as benign and he wondered just what was going to happen to her that had changed her so much.

"Our team is real," he objected. "May, Coulson, Skye, Fitz, you still care about them don't you?"

"They won't remember any of this," she answered but a shadow had crossed over her and he knew he'd hit a nerve. "None of this will have happened."

"I can still make them suffer," he reminded her. "They'd still feel it now. Who do you think would be an easier target? Skye or Fitz?"

He wouldn't really hurt them, not in the way he was insinuating. He was honest enough with himself to know that he couldn't, but he was banking on Simmons believing the worst of him or, at the very least, not having the grit to take a chance.

She clenched her jaw, glaring at him with hot, flashing rage. "What do you want to know?" she growled.

"What do you know?" He asked, glaring back but putting away his weapon.

"I know you're a bloody traitor," she spat. "That you work for Hydra, that they've infiltrated SHIELD like a parasite and that, soon, they're going to rise and then a lot of people's lives are going to be destroyed. I know you've killed other agents, or at least you're going to." Another flash of fury erupted out of her, like an invisible solar flare, he could feel it in the air between them. "You'll mangle a man's throat with a wire one day and leave him hanging in the pantry for us to find like he's nothing. Like his life meant nothing."

Ward felt sick. Would he do all that?

Yes, he probably would. If the right person ordered him too, if it were necessary, he definitely would. There was more though. It was personal, even if she was struggling not to let it show, he'd done something to _her_.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" he wondered, afraid to ask about it, of what he was going to do. "Why haven't you told the others about me?"

"Because they need to stay focused," she answered simply. "We can't be fighting amongst ourselves if we want to have a future, if we want to survive we need to work together."

"You don't think I'm an immediate threat?" he questioned.

"I think you want to survive," she replied staring into him.

"So you'll keep my secret," he guessed.

She sighed, averting her gaze. "Yes," she muttered.

He hesitated, unsure whether or not he believed her, running through his options. He couldn't kill her, not only because he didn't want to, but because it would make no sense to do so. She was right, they needed her if they wanted to make it through this, and he intended to make it through, for all of them to.

"May I go now?" she demanded, already moving forward.

He held out his arm to stop her and she grumbled impatiently.

"If you tell anyone anything I'll kill both of them in the worst way I know how," he promised fiercely, a flawless lie. "And I've seen a lot of horrible things agent Simmons."

Her eyes grew bright and, finally, she looked afraid. "You won't," she whispered, but she didn't seem entirely sure. For a moment she seemed lost in her own fear. Then she straightened, shoving it down and meeting his gaze steadily. "But I don't intend on telling anyone."

"Good," he replied, moving his arm away.

The moment her path was clear she scurried past him, not once looking behind her, and he waited until she was out of sight to leave the room himself. He waited until no one could hear to let out the long, shaky breath he'd been holding in.

/-/-/

Simmons stumbled further down the deserted hallway, carrying a candle to light her way through the darkness, sniffing every now and again but, for the most part, crying silently.

She'd gone back briefly to retrieve the candle, to tell the others she was going for a walk, but she needed to be alone, away from them for a while, and the inside of the High School was safe. 

They'd been concerned though none of them had commented. Skye had asked her if she needed anything (she'd told her no), May had nodded, almost understanding and Coulson had told her not to stay out too late. She'd been too afraid to look at Ward, still shaken by their recent discussion, and Fitz... she couldn't bear to look at Fitz, to see in how disconnected he was from her, so she'd left without a backward glance at either of them. 

As she turned a corner a soft, orange light, told her she wasn't the only wanderer that night and the sound of a sharp, jagged outtake of breath told her she wasn't the only one whose tears couldn't be held back.

A woman, she recognized Dana Grey when the she turned to face her, stood in front of a mural, cheeks wet with tears and dark shadows under her puffy red eyes.

"S-sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't think... I can go."

"It's alright," Simmons assured her kindly, hearing her own voice squeak and roughly wiping her eyes. "You were here first, I'll leave."

She changed course, setting out to find another hallway to roam, but Dana called her back.

"Wait, agent Simmons is it?"

"Yes," she replied, glancing back over her shoulder.

"You know things, don't you? About what's happening, what's going to happen?" Her words had an edge to them, of desperation and pain, that made Simmons double back, slowly approaching her.

"I have an idea," she said honestly. "I don't know everything though."

Dana nodded, her lip trembling as fresh tears dripped down the side of her face. "Do you know if it's fixed?" She whimpered. "Is this going to happen?" She gestured weakly to the mural and Simmons noticed what it was for the first time.

Three people, all adults, smiled back at her from inside square gold frames. Above them, in neat, curved writing read 'In loving memory of Mona Foster, Henry Higgins and Willis Grey.' It didn't say what had happened, why they had died, but the wall around the photographs was covered in writing. Short notes, long ones, in blacks and blues and a hundred different handwritings and there were dates, at the bottom of the frames, birth date and date of death. The date of death was the same for all three, September 19th, 2017.

"My husband teaches here now," Dana told her quietly, staring at the date underneath Willis Grey. "I've been down this hallway a thousand times, but this is new... it's... why is this here?" She demanded.

Simmons' chest was tight and her throat was raw but she knew the answer. "Because it isn't only the people here who are fusing with the future," she replied sadly. "It's everything, the ground, the plants, the buildings... this school."

"Is this going to happen?" she asked dully.

"I don't know," Simmons admitted.

Dana whimpered again, wrapping her arms around herself. "I can't do this alone."

Simmons felt a rush of rage, hot like fire under her skin, at how unfair life could be. It was cruel, all of this, what had happened to these people, Simmons herself having to be there and Dana having to see the bloody mural that had carelessly etched its way into a place it wasn't wanted.

Rage wasn't going to help anyone though, neither was the despair that followed. What they needed, Simmons, Dana and everyone else, was hope.

"There's a saying," she began, still whispering because the quietness of it felt safer. "That those who foresee calamity are doomed to live it twice, but... but I have... had..." her voice caught but she went on, "I _have_ a friend who hated that saying. He says that the idea of a fixed future, of a set destiny is ridiculous." She chuckled, warmed for a moment at the memory. "But, honestly, I think he's just too stubborn to believe that he _has_ to do anything. He'd change the future just to prove he could." Her smile faded, heart aching over what she'd lost, but she went on. "The point is, we don't know," she told her. "We don't know if this is going to happen."

"But it could," Dana murmured, eyes on the photograph.

"It could," Simmons agreed. "You can't linger on it though, it'll eat you up." The woman sniffed and shifted her gaze to her. "Trust me," Simmons pressed gently, "you have to believe that there's hope."

Dana swallowed, nodding. "Thank you."

Simmons gave her a weak smile, unsure if she herself believed that there was a way out, that she wasn't doomed to her own future, that the words on the wall could ever be erased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe references are the names Mona Foster and Henry Higgins. They are both from the alternate universe, one of them is an entymologist with a crush on Charlie and the other is a Taxi driver who befriends Olivia when she kidnaps him.
> 
> The quote about calamity is a derivation of the quote "He who foresees calamities, suffers them twice over" by Beilby Porteus. I first read it at the beginning of the book Flash Forward though, so I don't actually know who he is.
> 
> Much thanks to notapepper for helping me out with this, teaching me about google docs and how to form sentences. You rock :D.
> 
> I almost named this chapter 'Simmons has a very bad day but don't worry some love is coming her way soon' but that seemed too long XD.


	7. Sleuthing

It was clear the moment Simmons returned that he'd really hurt her. Fitz watched her float back into the gymnasium, mumbling another excuse to leave, shoulders sagging and her eyes red and swollen. She'd been crying.

He'd wanted to say something, anything that would make her feel better, fix his mistake because he couldn't stand how miserable she was, but he'd hesitated, nervous and at a loss for the right words.

He'd been frustrated by all her secrets, all the things she was keeping from him, because the Simmons he knew never kept things from him, she trusted him implicitly and he trusted her without question. If he was completely honest, the change had scared him. The distance she was creating between them had made him fear she no longer cared about him and, out of that fear, anger had emerged.

She did care though, that much had been clear the moment she'd entered the gymnasium and he'd seen the expression on her face. It was obvious he'd made a mistake and he needed to set about fixing it.

So now he was following her, trailing behind her with all the sleuthing skills his short time in the field and had gifted him with, still building up the nerve to actually approach her.

She wasn't difficult to keep track of, her candle created a pale orange bubble of soft light, all he needed to do was follow that light through the darkness (and not trip on anything, which was no easy task considering sleuthing meant he hadn't brought a candle of his own) and step as lightly as possible so his footsteps wouldn't echo off the walls and give him away.

She was still crying, her sporadic sniffs and tiny, miserable sobs clawing at his heart, awakening a desperate need to pull her into his arms and hold her until she didn't need to weep anymore, yet simultaneously adding to his fear of making his presence known, keeping him out of her circle of light.

He heard voices up ahead of him, Simmons, high and watery, and a woman who sounded as if she'd been crying too. The hallways were filled with heavy hearts that night.

She seemed to have stopped to speak to the woman and Fitz risked sneaking closer, hiding just around the corner, to catch the rest of their hushed conversation.

Simmons was explaining something about the school, how it had fused with the school from the future and the woman replied that she 'couldn't do this on her own', her pain sounding into the air, thickening it like a poison gas, and Fitz realized she'd found out she was going to lose someone. He couldn't imagine that, the torture of knowing such a loss was sliding towards you but having no way to stop it. It must have been horrible.

Simmons tried to comfort her, told her about a conversation Fitz remembered having with her a few years back and he smiled, warmed by her kindness and the memory, before he caught on to her choice of words and a cold breeze blew away the happy feeling.

'I _had_ a friend'? What did that mean, she'd _had_ a friend? Were they not friends anymore, in the future? Was their friendship gone? Or... or was _he_ gone?

The thought hit him like a blow to the gut, the possibility flooding around him like a rush of water so that he couldn't breath for a moment before he forced himself to suck in air.

What if he was gone?

Fear twisted his stomach and tears stung his own eyes as he fidgeted in place, torn between his need to run, to put distance between himself and the terrible truth his friend might reveal, and his need to know, to comfort her, to find a way to ease the pain she must be feeling.

In the end his need to go to her was stronger and, before he could change his mind, he launched himself around the corner, into the open, only to find Dana alone, still staring at the mural.

"Simmons?" he called, searching for the light of her candle.

"She went outside," Dana murmured, staring forward.

Outside? Was it safe outside? Was she alone, an easy target for the people who had become violent? Tiny needles pricked around his heart as his imagination churned out horrible scenarios and his decision to go to her solidified.

"Thank you," he said softly, instinctively gentle with Dana because her pain still hazed the air around her, before hurrying towards the door and slipping out of the building.

He found Simmons sitting on the front steps of the school, staring up at the sky but not with the wonder he'd grown to love so much. He couldn't see her face but the way her shoulders sagged and her head tilted slightly to the side, as if she didn't have the energy to hold it upright, told him she was upset.

Just beyond her, pacing back and forth a few meters away, one of the civilians guarded the entrance, shotgun in hand, and Fitz felt a rush of relief that, at least, she'd been protected.

She was so sad though. He'd been unfair, he realized, demanding that she bring his friend back, accusing her of being someone else. She wasn't someone else, she was Simmons. Maybe not the one he knew in that moment, but one she'd someday become.

And maybe she wasn't so different. It was possible that she was only acting the way she was because she'd been put into a stressful situation, alone and surrounded by memories she didn't seem to want to relive. That would have made him distant, angry.

Her aversion to the rest of the team, to Fitz himself especially, had been infuriatingly puzzling at first, but it was a puzzle Fitz was on his way to solving and he didn't at all like the picture the put together pieces formed.

"Can I sit here?" he asked carefully, feeling as if he were approaching a skittish animal, one he'd already frightened with his loud stomping.

She glanced at him, briefly, so briefly he almost missed it as he blinked, then shrugged. "If you'd like."

"It must be strange, seeing us all so young," he commented, fishing for a subject that wouldn't be too awkward and realizing he might have found one of the most awkward of them all a moment too late. "Er... I mean... How old are you?"

'Yes. That made it less weird, good job,' he thought sarcastically.

"I'm twenty seven," she answered quietly.

That was surprising, and unnerving if the thing he thought was coming for him, maybe for all of them, really was coming. It was too soon.

"But you've had your birthday?" He guessed, veering away from the question he was too afraid to ask. "How did that go?"

She shrugged. "It marked the passing of another year."

That was... eerily vague.

"You didn't come here to ask me how my birthday went," she stated flatly, still refusing to look at him.

"No," he admitted.

Her mouth twitched and she sighed. "I'm sorry if I'm scaring you. It'll be over soon and you won't-"

"I won't remember any of it," he joined in instinctively at the end of her sentence, wondering why that made her wince. "None of us will," he added. "Not even you. So could you tell me, please, why you can't even look at me? What harm can it do?"

She shook her head, very slowly, eyes bright.

"Am I dead?" he blurted, before he could lose his courage.

She turned to him, emanating such a deep, hollow misery that his chest began to ache. When she spoke her voice sounded like the voice of a ghost. "I had custard."

"What?" He frowned.

"For my birthday." She swallowed and bit her lip, taking deep breaths until the pain coming off of her in waves began to subside. When she spoke next her voice chirped with false cheeriness. "Coulson bought a bowl of custard from the store and put a candle in it. He sang me Happy Birthday before I blew it out."

Coulson was alive then. That was good news, a bag of sand off the bottom of his sinking hot air balloon.

"And the others?" He inquired.

Her eyes rested once again on the stars. "They're fine."

So it was just him. Fear soured his relief.

She pushed a loose strand of hair over her shoulder, reactively, the way someone would itch at a mosquito bite, as if she were unused to it being there. Her stillness and her ragged breathing told him she was struggling not to cry again and he grasped onto the distraction.

"Did you change your hair?" he wondered.

"It's shorter when I'm from," she replied mechanically.

"Ah, well... umm... that must feel weird then." He chuckled nervously. "I mean, I know what it's like to suddenly have shorter hair, but I've never suddenly had longer hair," he joked, not knowing what else to do. "It isn't as short as mine is it?" Another nervous chuckle. "Was it driving you insane? All that hair?" he continued, because he thought he saw her mouth twitch up ever so slightly. "Did you just decide one day 'enough... er... hair! I'm chopping you down.'"

Watching the side of her face he saw a small smile form, slowly, as if it had to force it's way through and she puffed out a short snort, then another that turned softly into a chuckle.

"Not exactly," she mused and he smiled back, feeling as if he'd made progress. "It's still reaches my shoulders. It is strange suddenly having so much of it though."

"It's a new experience at least," he pointed out optimistically. Allowing her to leave his question hanging a little longer while he mustered up the nerve to ask it again. "We've had a lot of those lately."

She finally faced him properly, still smiling, and he realized it was the first time he'd talked to her about her as if she were the same person whose body she occupied.

"Are you enjoying it?" she asked. Her head tilted to the side and she watched him, gently curious. "Traveling on the Bus, seeing new things."

"It's been the 'highlight of my entire pasty life,'" he teased and was rewarded with another low chuckle.

"I didn't mean to...," she shook her head, giggling. "Well you are..."

"And so are you," he jested, lightly nudging her shoulder. "So don't go getting all superior on me just because you're older than me now, you're still as pasty as I am."

The contact appeared to startle her at first. Her smile faltered and she stared down at where their arms had touched, clouding for moment before she cleared and nudged him back, eyes glowing with something close to joy.

"I'm not the one prone to big-headedness," she teased.

They laughed together and Fitz let the happy moment linger for a few seconds more before he forced himself to ask again.

"Simmons..." he began, hesitantly, instantly sobering her. "Am... am I going to die?"

"Everyone is going to die Fitz," she told him softly, avoiding an answer. "Living things die."

He shot her a look. "You know what I mean. Am I dead, when you are... when you're from?"

Her eyes grew bright again, tears spilling over before she twisted away so that he was facing her back.

"No," she whispered, sounding far less happy than she should have at that answer. "Don't worry, you're going to be OK." She rose to her feet, turning her body so that he never saw her face and began to walk away, back into the school, leaving her candle beside him. "You should come back in soon," she mumbled, not waiting for him to follow as she opened the door to enter, letting it fall closed behind her.

He wasn't dead. That was good right? That meant the future was alright, didn't it?

Why was it so terrifying then?

/-/-/

Somehow, even without a light, Simmons made it back to the gymnasium before Fitz did and was already settled into the sleeping bag she'd been given, curled up in a secluded patch of floor away from the rest of the team, when he entered.

"So did you talk to her?" Skye asked, watching their friend with concern and handing him his own sleeping bag before spreading hers out next to May's.

"We talked for a bit," he told her, aching at how alone she looked, curled around herself as if the lack of other warm bodies to surround her left a chill.

"Is she OK?" Skye whispered.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think she is." He jerked his head towards Simmons. "I'm going to go see if she wants some company."

Skye nodded, lips pressed together, tugging anxiously at her sleeves, and Fitz realized that she too didn't know what to say, how to help. "Just tell me if you need anything," she offered.

"I will," he replied over his shoulder, already weaving his way through the room of sleeping people.

When he reached Simmons he knelt down slowly behind her, watching her but not reaching forward to touch her shoulder the way he normally would have, remembering her reaction to his arm tapping hers outside.

"Jemma?" he called softly. She sniffed but she didn't move, remaining on her side with her back to him. "Can I take this spot?" He asked, keeping his voice low, gentle.

He didn't receive a reply, or any sign of acknowledgement of what he'd said for a full minute and it wasn't until he was preparing to stand up, to leave her in peace, that she spoke, very quietly, like a sad, soft breeze over a lake.

"If you'd like."

"I would," he told her, settling down in his sleeping bag so he was facing the back of her head. "This is incredibly uncomfortable," he commented, squirming to find a position that didn't push his bones into the hardwood floor, ending up on his back because it was the least unpleasant. "Ouch, damn floor, I know it's the end of the world but couldn't we have gathered somewhere a little more comfortable, like a carpet store, or a mattress warehouse?"

"Or a marshmallow factory," she added quietly, amused.

Fitz grinned, happily surprised, and turned his head so that his cheek rested on the cushion embedded in the top of his sleeping bag so he could see her. She rolled over to face him, her cheeks moist but a smile reaching her eyes so that they were lit and warm with affection.

"I think that would quickly turn into a sticky situation," he joked. "But I'm glad you have some suggestions."

She chuckled at him and shuffled forward to leave a lingering kiss on his forehead. "You're more than that Fitz," she murmured, taking his hand and running her thumb along the back of his palm.

It tingled amazingly where her digit moved across his skin and where he still felt the echo of her lips, just above his eyebrows.

"More than what?" he asked softly, her words causing his pulse to quicken even if he didn't know what they meant. The way she said them he could tell they were important and now she was watching him with an expression he'd never seen before, not when she knew he was looking.

"Just more," she told him, as if that were an answer that made sense.

"Is this a future thing?" he asked, a little dazed from the way her eyes were shining on him.

Her smile widened. "Yes."

"What does it mean?"

She kissed his forehead again, a quick peck this time, but still wonderful. "It means I love you," she explained, giving his hand a squeeze. "Always."

"Oh." He wondered if she could see how red he'd become in the dim light. Many of the candles had been blown out, only a few were left burning to get them through the night. She didn't seem embarrassed or even shy though while she waited patiently for him respond. "You're more than that too Jemma," he finally whispered, because it was the truth even if he wasn't sure she'd meant it the way he felt it.

He didn't need her to elaborate however, not right then, and she didn't. She lifted her head and kissed him once more, on the cheek this time, just under his eye, hovering over him for a moment before pulling away, so that he was filled up with her scent and the sound of her breathing.

"Sweet dreams," she wished him, keeping his hand and closing her eyes.

"Sweet dreams," he parroted, wondering what had just happened.

He briefly remembered what Ward had said, about her being sick, but he quickly dismissed the idea.

That wasn't what this was, as strange as her switching from ignoring him to telling him that she loved him and repeatedly kissing him seemed. It felt more like she was letting go, freeing herself from whatever had driven her to keep a wide distance between them, and allowing her true feelings to show through.

Some of them at least. She was still keeping secrets, of that he was certain, but he was starting to realize that she had her reasons for keeping them, and it was becoming clear that, whatever they were, they were eating her up inside.

So, for the moment, he let her have her secrets and his hand to hold onto finding that, whoever she'd become, he still wanted to hold onto her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe reference in this chapter I added just before I posted it haha. It is the custard Simmons has for her birthday. In the first episode of the second season, Walter insists on making Peter custard for his birthday (despite his repeated claims that he doesn't like it). At the end of the episode he presents it too him on a tray with a candle in it. (And everyone has a birthday hat, and Peter still doesn't like custard but is happy anyway).


	8. When I'm From

Skye was awake though, if it had been up to her, she’d still be asleep. 

In hindsight, camping out for the night in between May and Ward had probably been a mistake. _Both_ of them were up before the sun was, stepping over her and disturbing her slumber and once they’d seen she wasn’t sleeping anymore they’d assumed she was up and began the mission talk, as if that were the _first_ thing she wanted to think about in the morning, before coffee or breakfast or even squirming out of her sleeping bag. 

“Should we wake Coulson?” Ward wondered mid-discussion, tilting his head towards their leader who’d taken the spot on May’s other side and was still blissfully in dreamland.

May glanced at him, smiling slightly with what might have been affection. “He can sleep for a few more minutes,” she decided.

‘Lucky him,’ Skye thought, wishing she had had the sense not to mumble a groggy good morning to her passing teammates, alerting them to her state of consciousness. 

After a while, Ward went to find them some breakfast and May set off to gather the volunteers, leaving Skye alone. 

She scanned the crowd for Fitz and Simmons, wondering if Fitz had managed to get through to her about whatever had been weighing her down, and spotted them, huddled together, a few meters away. Fitz was laying on his back, head tilted towards Simmons who had pressed her forehead into his shoulder and slept sideways, hugging him with one arm. 

A smile pulled at the sides of her mouth and she felt a little more cheerful. Clearly her friends had worked things out, or at least Simmons was in a better mood after their discussion. It had been hard, watching her so hurt and alone, not understanding or knowing how to help, she was glad someone had made things easier for her. 

“They’re pretty cute like that,” she commented, accepting a plate of toast and scrambled eggs from Ward who sat down beside her to begin picking away at his own breakfast. 

“It’s good to see them getting along,” he acknowledged. “It’s strange though, how quickly she went from ignoring him to,” he gestured with his fork, “ _that _.” Skye turned to him, not sure what he was implying and he raised his eyebrows in answer to her silent question. “Her behaviour seems a little erratic,” he elaborated.__

Skye chuckled in disbelief, shaking her head at him. “It’s called love Mr. Robot,” she teased. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? That wonderful tingling in your stomach, a sense of belonging,” she tilted her head, smiling amusedly at him, “ _caring_ about someone else.” She turned her attention back to the sleeping pair. “She’s not crazy, she’s just crazy about Fitz.” She leaned towards him, lowering her voice. “I mean, you should have seen how upset she was about Lorelei taking control of him.”

He frowned. “You mean she was jealous? Because trust me, what she does is not something to envy.”

“No, not jealous,” she explained. “More like scared for him, and I think she was pretty angry at her for what she did to him too… she had this look in her eyes…” She shrugged. “He was fine though, even if he was a bit shaken up, but I think if Lorelei had done any permanent damage, she’d have gone on the war path.”

Ward shot her a skeptical look. “Simmons? On the war path? That doesn’t really sound like her.”

“Yeah but if someone did something to Fitz? I think she would.” Skye pressed. “She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d forgive something like that. She would have hated Lorelei forever if she’d hurt him.”

The specialist’s gaze moved from her to their friends and he narrowed his eyes, as if her were mulling it over. 

“You’re right,” he agreed quietly after a moment. “She would have hated her for that.”

/-/-/

The feet of the early risers, thudding against the hard floor, woke him and as Fitz emerged from sleep he became aware of a light, grounding weight across his middle and something warm leaning into his shoulder. 

He heard familiar, steady breathing and opened his eyes to see the top of Simmons’ hair, morning sunshine from the high windows leaking in to illuminate it and the rest of the rising world around them. 

Her face was out of sight, hidden by a curtain of golden-brown locks and buried in the side of his arm. She sounded peaceful and he kept as still as he could, not wanting to wake her, allowing her a few more minutes of serenity before she was once again thrown into the chaos of their current predicament and whatever secret she was holding onto and, if he were honest, allowing himself an extra minute to savour the heavenly warmth of her sideways embrace. 

She stirred anyway however, soon after he had, likely hearing the hushed conversations springing up nearby or the clap of another pair of footsteps tiptoeing past. 

“Good morning,” he greeted gently when he felt her arm tighten its grip around him, glad she hadn’t taken it back. “It’s me,” he added, because he was still a little hazy and was worried that she might be too, that she might not know what was happening.

“Of course it’s you,” she chuckled, remaining as she was. “Who else would it be silly?”

The affection in her words danced merrily across his heart and he brought his free hand up to shyly push back the hair hiding her cheek, tucking it tenderly behind her ear so that the sunshine could reach her. She wasn’t used to it being as long as it was, he remembered. 

“You’re so steady today,” she purred softly, nuzzling her forehead into his shoulder.

“What?” he mumbled, a little dazed from the way she was snuggled against him and because he was still half asleep. Should he know what she was talking about?

She tensed suddenly, gasping in a sharp, quiet breath as if she’d been awoken by a loud noise or a nightmare, and recoiled away from him. Before he knew what was happening she was sitting up, the warmth gone with her, staring down at him and looking startled.

“What?” he asked again, urgently this time, the pleasant fogginess having rapidly dissipated, leaving behind an awful mixture of dread and confusion.

“S-sorry,” she answered shakily. “I thought… for a moment I forgot.. ” She shook her head and her expression once again became closed off and guarded. “Never mind, I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes and let out long sigh, frustrated by being so far away from knowing what she was thinking. “It’s OK,” he assured her, aware that it wasn’t her fault and not wanting to hurt her like he had the day before. He had an imprint stamped into his mind of the misery he’d caused her already, a leftover thorn in his heart from it. So he opened his eyes again, smiling kindly at her. “I trust you.”

She turned teary and she gazed upwards, mouth set in a line, clearly struggling with something. “OK,” she whispered.

She was hurting again, however much he’d tried to prevent it, and Fitz yearned for a way to fix it.

He sat up and, cautiously reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me as much as you want,” he soothed. “I get it.” He laughed. “Well… no I don’t, but…,” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, still smiling, hoping she could see in his expression that he’d opened his mind and his heart for her. “I’m right here.”

She nodded, lip trembling, before moving forward to lean her head on the front of his shoulder, pressing into him as if she were trying to hide from the world. Unsure what else to do, he smoothed her hair with his opposite hand, sliding his fingers from the top of her scalp to the bottom over and over in a slow, constant rhythm, until she spoke. 

“I’m just… just a little homesick,” she murmured into him, then she laughed, suddenly amused at herself. “I missed you, but now I miss you too.” Another low chuckle. “I know that doesn’t make any sense…”

“Actually,” he told her. “I think I can understand that.”

She pulled back, surprised, and sniffed. “You do?” she asked, her teary gaze moving across his face hopefully.

Tentatively, he lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, hovering a few millimeters away first, giving her a chance to refuse. When she didn’t, he held her face between his palms, clearing them away with his thumbs. She place her hands over his, still staring at him, looking lost but managing a weak smile. 

“A little bit,” he answered as their hands lowered together, intertwining between them. “I’m… we’re all probably different when you’re from. We’ve seen things, been through things together, that I don’t know about. Maybe I’ve learned a few new tricks, picked up some new habits. I’m still me but I’m not… not _your me_.” He grinned mischievously, attempting to cheer her. “I had better still like monkeys though, and Doctor Who, or I’m going to have to send a strongly worded letter to my future self about my priorities.” 

To his delight, she was laughing, shoulders shaking with it, joyful and contagious. “I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that,” she giggled. Her eyes narrowed fondly and she released his hands to pull him into an embrace which he heartily returned. “And you’re _always_ my you,” she informed him warmly. 

“Only, there’s your me one and your me two,” he continued, grin widening, pleased, when she laughed again. “Does me two have a robot suit?” he wondered, a little hopeful though he relayed it as a joke. “Or a monkey assistant… or-”

“Shhh,” she chuckled, turning her head to plant a quick, firm kiss on his cheek, which silenced him instantly, before she let him go. His eyebrows rose and she scrunched her nose at him. “Spoilers.”

“So we still like Doctor Who then?” he mused. 

She shrugged, but her light, playful smile told him he’d guessed correctly and he marvelled at how different she was from the distant, mournful person he’d seen less than a day ago. 

“So… do we-” he began but she shook her head.

“You’ll see,” she promised. A shadow passed over her for a moment and she added, “It’s going to get very, very difficult soon, but you’ll be so brave and so strong, and there’s something after that’s worth fighting for.”

He nodded, daunted but determined, unable to stifle a rush of pride that she’d called him both strong and brave. How could he have possibly thought any version of Simmons wouldn’t like him anymore? How could he have had so little faith in her?

Her cheerfulness returned and she took his hand, rising to her feet and tugging him up with her. “Let’s go get some breakfast,” she decided. “We have a long hike ahead of us.”

“Then you can go home,” he pointed out, reminding himself that he didn’t need to be sad about that, that he’d see her again someday and he’d have the old her back until then, which was a joy not a consolation. He loved her always too.

The shadow once again passed over her and her smile faltered, clearly false when she forced it back up. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “Then I can go home.”

There was something off about the way she said it, and concern flickered up in his chest, but he didn’t protest. He’d told her he wasn’t going to pry, so he wasn’t. Not until he thought she needed his help anyway. 

/-/-/

Simmons sat down beside Skye, chewing on a piece of toast. 

“Where’s Fitz?” Skye wondered, glancing around for her friend but not spotting him.

“The gas stove stopped working,” Simmons explained. She grinned, shaking her head and chuckling fondly. “He just about guaranteed them he could have it fixed in half an hour- which he probably can.”

Skye grinned back. “A whole half an hour?” she kidded.

“Did you have anything to eat?” Simmons asked, tilting her own plate towards her. 

Skye nodded. “Yeah, Ward got me some food.”

She frowned at that and, though Skye wondered why, she didn’t push for an answer, afraid of making her friend cry again, of the helplessness she’d felt watching her suffer and being unable to stop it.

“You haven’t asked me yet, about the future,” Simmons mused between mouthfuls. She turned to her, smiling. “I know you’re curious.”

“And a little freaked,” Skye admitted, laughing nervously. “I mean, sometimes it feels like there’s a ticking clock over me, counting down until SHIELD realizes I’m an untrained civilian, working on cases about a thousand leagues over my head.”

Simmons raised her eyebrows and gave her a look as if what she had said was absurd. “It’s completely natural to be frightened,” she conceded. “You don’t need to be though,” she pressed. “You’re going to be fine… better than that, you’ll be amazing.”

Skye turned to her, surprised. “Really?”

She nodded knowingly, gaze warm. “You’ll make us all proud- not that you don’t already,” she nudged her lightly and Skye felt a rush of affection. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had told they were proud of her, it made her want to do better, to try harder to live up to their vision of her. 

She nudged her friend back, ensuring not to do so when she had a mouthful of toast. "Thanks Simmons," she answered. "That means a lot, coming from you and it's nice... you know... to know you belong somewhere, that you matter."

"You're very important to us Skye," she let her know firmly, as if she urgently needed reminding. "Don't forget that. You matter, not just to SHIELD but to us... we're your family. If you want us to be."

"A family?" It was amazing, to have someone say that to her, to have people who wanted to keep her. "Does that mean May and Coulson are our mom and dad?” she jested. “Should I start calling AC agent Dad?"

Simmons laughed. "Probably not."

"I'm not even going to try calling May agent Mom," Skye kidded, laughing with her.

"No, don't do that," she giggled. "May loves you, but don't do that."

They chuckled together as Simmons began munching on her eggs.

"I do," Skye murmured, after a moment, causing Simmons to tilt her head questioningly at her. "I do want you to be my family."

“Good.” Tears formed in Simmons' eyes and, though she looked happy, she also seemed really sad. "You mean a lot to me Skye," she managed before they leaked onto her cheeks. "Oh, look at me," she squeaked, wiping the back of her hand across her face and blinking several times. "I'm a mess already and I haven't even finished my breakfast."

"It's OK," Skye assured her, however she was certain it wasn't. It wasn't just the conversation that was making Simmons cry, or else her tears would been solely from joy and they weren't. There was something else, something she was hiding. "Why are you telling me this now?" she asked slowly. "Why the sudden pep talk- not that it I don't appreciate it, I do, and I'm glad we're having a moment but why do you need to…?" 

Simmons sniffed, opening her mouth and closing it a few times before she answered. “...I just… I don’t think I’ve ever told you how important you are.” 

It was more than that. She’d stopped eating, picking at her remaining bits of egg anxiously.

‘Yeah but I won't even remember this,” Skye pointed out. “I mean… you mean a lot to me too and, again, I’m glad we’re having this talk, but why now? Why not when you go…” Something suddenly clicked and she trailed off, words tumbling away. 

Simmons lifter her head, a shaky breath escaping her as she waited for Skye to put the pieces together. 

Tears welled up in her eyes before they'd even had a chance to grow hot, spilling over and onto her face. She knew. She had no idea how it was possible, but Skye suddenly knew why her friend had been so closed off, so sad, and hit her like a punch in the stomach.

Her throat closed and she felt sick. "Jemma..." she whispered.

She smiled bravely at her, gently clearing a few of the tears from Skye's face before a whimper escaped her and her hand fell, shoulders slouching and her chin lowering towards her chest.

"Please," she begged, her quiet plea thick with desperation. "Don't tell Fitz."

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a only a kind of Fringe reference in this chapter. It is more Fringe inspired. It is the last sentence in which Simmons says to Skye "Don't tell Fitz" which is a modification of the end of the episode 2x14 Jacksonville (which takes place partly in Olivia's home town, Jacksonville Florida) in which Olivia finds out Peter is from the other side by seeing his glow and turns to Walter, looking for answers and Walter only replies with "Please don't tell him."
> 
> Also the agents Mom and Dad is completely from tumblr haha. It seems to be a popular head-canonish thing (which I am completely on board with).


	9. Potential Hazards

Coulson, Ward and the volunteers led the way towards the crash site while May remained at the tail end of the group, keeping them covered from behind in case they were attacked by one of the affected citizens. 

“You have to tell him,” Skye pressed, stepping beside her friend as they trekked through the woods, keeping her voice low so that Fitz, who was questioning the pair of military scientists a couple meters ahead of them, wouldn’t hear.

Simmons sighed. “Skye…”

“He’ll want to know, _I’d_ want to know,” she insisted.

“So you’re glad I told you then?” Simmons questioned impatiently, her eyes drifting ahead to the conversation, anxious to join in. “That’s why your eyes are still red and puffy?”

“I thought I washed that away,” she fussed, reactively rubbing them as if it would help. She stopped, realizing she was was probably only making it worse and returned her attention to Simmons. “Look, Simmons, it’s your life, I get it, it’s hard and you can do whatever you want but… don’t you want a chance to say goodbye?”

She shook her head roughly, turning it away from Skye. “I want him to have a chance at a future, and for that he needs to stay focused on the mission. We _all_ do,” she added sternly looking back at her. 

“We’re just walking through the woods,” Skye pointed out,. “It isn’t like that takes a lot of our attention. It’s just one foot forward, then the next.”

Simmons frowned, unconvinced. “I should be with him now, speaking with Niehaus and Leaky,” she argued, tilting her head in their direction. “There’s still a lot of things that need our attention Skye.”

She wanted to protest, to tell her that she did still have time, that she could say goodbye to the people she loved _and_ finish the mission, but she knew Simmons, any version of her, wasn’t going to be talked out of doing what she believed was the right thing.

“OK,” she mumbled unhappily, dragging her feet. “Go ahead and… science…. then.” 

Simmons’ gaze softened and she lifted her arm to lightly touch Skye’s shoulder. “You’ll see me again,” she promised. “It’s not over for you.”

‘I’m not worried about myself,’ Skye thought. The swollen lump that had jammed itself into her throat had burst at her friend’s words, at her incredible courage, and tears once again dripped down her cheeks. 

Impulsively she rushed forward and enveloped her in tight hug, stopping both of them in their tracks and knocking Simmons off balance.

“Skye… what…” She sighed, though she seemed more mournful than annoyed. “Someone is going to wonder what you’re doing.”

“I’m hugging you, that’s what I’m doing,” she explained needlessly, refusing to let go.

Another heavy sigh then, slowly, Simmons returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly before pulling away and giving her a determinedly optimistic smile. “You’ll be OK,” she assured her. “You all will.”

She swallowed, nodding slowly. ‘Not all of us,’ she despaired. ‘Not any of us.’

“I need to go,” Simmons reminded her.

Another nod. “Yeah… OK. Go… save the world. I’ll just sit back here, twiddling my thumbs and _not_ playing with my phone.”

Simmons chuckled. “We all save the world together agent Skye,” she told her, beginning to walk ahead.

“I’m not-” Skye began.

Her friend grinned mischievously. “Not yet.”

That brought a short-lived smile to her face.

“Think about what I said,” she called after her. “About… you know… telling you know who, you know what.”

“I’m not telling Voldemort anything,” Simmons deflected, glancing back briefly before jogging towards Fitz, Leaky, and Niehaus. 

Skye rolled her eyes, mildly exasperated. “Smart ass,” she muttered. 

‘Our smart ass,’ she added sadly to herself. ‘What are we going to do without you?’

/-/-/

“Wouldn’t it be a good thing if it runs out of power?” Fitz wondered, confused by the grim expressions on the faces of the pair of scientists when the idea had been put forth.

They exchanged a nervous glance. 

“Yes… and no,” Leaky explained hesitantly. “It’s shown… problems containing the radiation it produces, inside the storage cores when experiencing low power levels.” 

Fantastic.

“You’re saying it’s radioactive?” he demanded, prickling with frustration. “You didn’t think it would have been relevant to mention that _before_?”

“We.. we didn’t think…” Niehaus fumbled.

Clearly they hadn’t been thinking. This entire mess had happened because these two hadn’t been using their heads.Two PHDs between them and neither of them had seen the potential hazards of testing dangerous technology near a civilian population.

“We didn’t think it would take this long to retrieve it,” Leaky told him, avoiding eye contact. 

He sighed, pinching the space between his eyes and wondering why Simmons wasn’t with him, why she’d lingered behind, near the tail end of their odd caravan, to talk to Skye. It must have been important, for her to miss out on their briefing from the two military scientists, but he still wished she were with him, at the very least because bad news was easier to take together and moreover because she was brilliant and might have been on her way to a solution already. 

“How long until the radiation levels are high enough to be an immediate threat?” he asked. 

Niehaus shrugged, shaking his head. “Two hours, one, it depends on how long the system holds up. Then there’s the heat.”

“The heat?” Fitz deadpanned.

“The energy released in the form of infrared radiation-”

“I know what heat is!” he snapped, baffled and furious at how stupendously the two of them had messed things up. 

“Well… there’s a lot of energy going into bending time,” Leaky elaborated, fiddling apprehensively with her necklace. In place of pendant was a crumpled bullet and Fitz briefly wondered if there was as story behind it. “Normally… when the machine is working properly, that energy can be safely contained when it stops. But if the internal systems are malfunctioning-”

“The energy still needs to go somewhere,” Fitz realized with a jolt.

“There’ll be a ball of heat- and radiation- that erupts from the device when it turns off,” she went on, nodding in agreement. “It’ll be like… um…,” she searched for a comparison. “A pyroclastic flow,” she decided, snapping her fingers when the answer came to her. “Except without all the ash.”

“Yeah, because that’s the most lethal part of the thing,” Fitz remarked sarcastically. “Perfect, we have two hours before this becomes a suicide mission,” he muttered. “And who do you think is going to be the one having to get their insides irradiated, then instantly cooked turning the damn thing off?”

“If you do turn it off properly, you’ll be fine eventually,” Leaky pointed out, irritatingly unconcerned. “And if you don’t well… it won’t really matter if you survive it.”

“Yeah, because we’ll all be doomed anyway,” he grumbled.

“If the machine isn’t shut down correctly, yes,” Niehaus agreed. “Time itself will likely be ripped apart. At the very least there will be considerable damage to our section of the galaxy.” 

“So I die horribly, and forget it ever happened, or I die horribly and everyone dies?” Fitz guessed.

The pair looked grim again.

“Basically,” Niehaus agreed.

He puffed out a long breath, an awful lump forming at the bottom of his stomach. “I should have had an extra slice of toast,” he lamented. 

“You’re always hungry,” Simmons teased warmly, skipping towards him, evidently having only caught the final part of their conversation. She stopped next to him, pressing her arm into his and narrowing her eyes in unrestrained affection. “What did I miss? Have you discussed how to turn off the machine?” 

Fitz opened his mouth to explain, to tell her what he might need to do, but he found he couldn’t. She was grinning at him as if he were a puppy she’d just brought home, a precious, happy ball of fluff that she’d claimed as her own. 

A precious, happy ball of fluff that might be extra crispy in about two hours.

The full horror of what could happen suddenly collided with him like a concrete wall. He would die, he’d be in agonizing pain and then everything that made him him would be gone. Even if it were coming back eventually, the thought turned him to ice and Simmons loved him. It’d break her heart to hear that he might be required to sacrifice himself, rip that beautiful smile right off her face, hurt her the way she’d been hurt before. 

So he did something he almost never did. He lied to her.

“Just discussing how to turn off the machine,” he told her, shooting a warning glance at Leaky and Niehaus. 

Niehaus seemed confused and Leaky frowned disapprovingly, however neither of them corrected him. 

“How do we do that?” she chirped, linking arms as she walked beside him. 

If Fitz didn’t know any better, he’d wonder if she thought he was her boyfriend. 

He did know better, as much as he wished he was, but it was still nice to have her acting so affectionately. He risked winding his arm down to take her hand and, by the way her grin widened and her eyes sparkled, it seemed as if it delighted her. 

“Dr. Leaky and Dr. Niehaus were about to explain.” He shifted his attention them, silently pleading with them to go along with him.

Niehaus seemed to finally understand, matching his partner’s disapproval and Leaky sighed but continued to comply. “There are four sections of the machine, each has its own power cell. They need to be shut down in the correct order or-,” she eyed Fitz and bit her lip, irritated that she needed to censor herself. “-they need to be shut down in the correct order, 4, 3, 2, 1. The labels are near the top of the cell.” 

“Sounds simple enough,” Fitz commented optimistically. 

“You need to know how to turn them off safely,” she pressed. 

“I do,” he assured her. 

She nodded curtly. “Good.” 

“Did you guys figure it out?” Fitz looked to see Ward, stepping over a low growing shrub as he walked towards them. 

He waved cheerfully at his teammate with his free hand but he felt Simmons tense beside him. 

“Simmons, can I have a word with you?” Ward inquired. His gaze drifted over to Fitz who felt her tighten her grip on his hand. There was definitely something off between them but he had promised he wouldn’t push her for details, so he didn’t. 

When she spoke, her voice sounded strained. “Of course.” She addressed Fitz, Niehaus and Leaky, smiling mechanically. “Excuse me.” 

She gave Fitz’s hand another squeeze before letting go and, after only a brief hesitation, lay a swift, firm kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised. 

“Yeah,” he replied, warmth spreading from the place her lips had touched, across his face, so that he felt himself flush. “I… I mean good… I mean OK.” His ears burned. 

She smiled again, a real smile, eyes sparkling once more, before grudgingly following Ward away. 

He watched her go, feeling like a bag filled with startled butterflies. 

“This is exactly why _we_ have rules against fraternization with colleagues,” Leaky muttered when Simmons and Ward were out of earshot. 

A pang of annoyance pulled his attention back to reality. “Yeah, because being like the people who might be responsible for the end of the world is something SHIELD needs to aspire too,” he retorted hotly. 

/-/-/

Ward led her through the trees until he was confident no one would hear them, allowing the group to pass by, continuing towards the machine without them. 

“What?” Simmons spat when they stopped, no longer attempting to conceal her hostility.

“It’s about Fitz-” he began.

“You stay away from him,” she snapped, boldly taking a step towards him. He wasn’t sure why she thought she could intimidate him, but he admired the guts it must have taken for her to try. 

“Is he OK?” he asked, deciding to get to the point before they fell too far behind or before Simmons decided she’d had enough of him. “When you’re from did… did I hurt him?”

She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t need to, the searing hatred in her glare told him he was right, that he’d done something to the engineer. 

He grit his teeth, steeling himself. “Did I kill him?”

He saw her fist clench and she grew rigid, dangerously still, the way a snake was before it struck. “Go to hell,” she hissed.

She began twisting her body away from him, preparing to leave, but he caught her arm and held it firmly.

“Please.” He was disgusted with himself, for begging, for being weak. 

He hadn’t been expecting to scare her this time and he didn’t. Instead she rounded on him, bringing herself up to her full height as she took a step towards him, more menacing than he’d ever seen her, even if she did still have to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. He let her yank her arm away, confident she wasn’t about to leave anymore, waiting for he to speak.

“I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” she snarled. “I’m not going to sympathize with your guilt or whatever the hell you feel for what you did to him. Not me. He’s my best friend, the one who’s been beside me through everything. He knows why the dog runs, he knows me better than anyone and I know him better than I know myself. I know all the things inside of him, his hopes and dreams- and I know none of them involved having to deal with the aftereffects of having ninety feet of water knock the breath out of his lungs,” she kept her voice low but it felt as if she were shouting and she shook as she spoke. “None involved going so long without oxygen that the cells in his brain began dying.” Ward flinched but she didn’t and she didn’t stop even though he wanted her to. “But no, agent Ward,” his name was spoken with bitter contempt, “you didn’t kill either of us. He saved me and then I saved him and after that he saved himself. You hurt him but you didn’t break him. You didn’t break us because we didn’t let you. We are _stronger_ than you are and you will never harm either of us, or anyone else on our team, ever again.”

“I don’t want to hurt any of you,” he told her honestly, at once relieved and horrified by what she’d told him. 

“You will,” she snapped. “You’re going to hurt my family and I will never forgive you for that.”

“Maybe I can stop it,” he reasoned. “Now that I know-”

“Then stop it,” she demanded, as if it were that simple. “In the meantime, stay away from my team, and don’t you dare lay a hand on any of them or it won't matter whose side you’re on because I’ll kill you.”

Without waiting for a response, she spun around and stalked away, breaking into a run after she’d gone a couple of meters, hurrying to catch up with the others and leaving him stunned and sick to his stomach. 

Her threat hadn’t scared him, he wasn’t afraid of Simmons. He was afraid of himself. 

/-/-/

“So are we lying to your entire team, or just agent Simmons?” Leaky asked dryly, unrelenting. 

“You aren’t exactly in any position to lecture me about lying,” Fitz shot back, swatting a branch out of his path only to have it snap back and whack the side of his head. 

He swore and rubbed the stinging patch of skin as she continued.

“I know lies are what led us here in the first place,” she pressed. “They’re going to find out eventually. Your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly.

Niehaus scoffed. “Not yet.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he protested, whipping around to glower at them. “ _You two_ and your superiors are what got us into this heaping mess in the first place. Where do you get off-” he cut himself short, catching their widened eyes staring, transfixed, at something just past his shoulder. He gulped, dread clawing its way up into his throat. “What?”

“What are you doing in my woods?” someone growled fiercely behind him and, very slowly, instinctively raising his hands, he turned around to see a man pointing a rifle at them. His hair was brown, patched with silver and his skin was mix of smooth and wrinkled. 

“Sir, you need to put the gun down,” Leaky placated, sounding a lot calmer than Fitz felt.

“What do mean they got us into this mess,” he demanded, aiming the barrel at Fitz. “What’s going on? You had better tell me or I swear, I’ll blast your teeth out.”

“Sir, calm down,” Leaky pleaded, desperate now, clearly frightened.

“I’m not talking to you,” he shouted and Fitz flinched. “You, boy, tell me, who's the bad guy, you or them? Who am I gonna shoot?”

Fitz didn’t know what to do. How could the man ask him that? Decide who dies? What the hell was wrong with him?

He caught sight of his eyes, two pupils in each. An overlapping of two separate points in time. 

Right. 

“I’m giving you ‘till the count of three,” he warned. “Then I’m killing everyone, starting with you.”

“I-I…I don’t…” Fitz stammered. 

“Three”

This was it, he was going to die, forget the ashless pyroclastic flow.

“Two”

Something stood out, nagged him like a hovering fly despite his terror. This man had two pupils in each eye. Simmons didn’t.

“One”

He scrunched up his face, bracing for the bullet, but instead heard the pounding of rapid footsteps and the sound of one body colliding with another. 

The crack of a gunshot scared birds from the treetops and Fitz remained conscious to hear the overlapping flaps of their wings. He hadn’t been shot. 

Confused, he opened his eyes in time to see Simmons wrestle the rifle out of the grip of the man she’d pinned to the ground just as he kicked upwards with both feet and hit her hard in the stomach, sending her flying backwards as the gun went off again. 

“Jemma!” he screeched, bolting towards her.

The man lay on the ground, unmoving, skull blasted open but Simmons was already sitting up when he fell to his knees beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking her over anxiously. 

“Jemma?” he breathed. 

“I’m OK.” She winced, holding her stomach. “Nothing life threatening.”

“You came out better than this guy,” Niehaus commented grimly, cautiously approaching the dead man. 

Fitz barely registered what he’d said, lightheaded from the sudden relief from absolute terror. He rocketed forward, pulling Simmons into an embrace which she instantly returned, clinging to him as he clung to her and burying her face into his shoulder. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever bring himself to let her go.

“What happened?” May demanded, suddenly very close by. He hadn’t noticed her approach.

Soon they were surrounded by the rest of their party and, though Fitz glanced around to meet their concerned expressions, Simmons continued to hide her face in the fabric of his shirt. 

“That man’s been affected,” Leaky explained. “He attacked us, but agent Simmons stopped him. She shot him.”

Simmons' breath caught and she shrunk further into him. “It was an accident,” she mumbled weakly.

“I know,” he murmured, gently trailing his hand up and down her back, as if he could smoothen out her taut muscles. 

“Simmons?” May kneeled down next to them, firm but kind. 

Simmons lifted her head, though she still gripped steadfastly onto Fitz, and sniffed.

“Was that the first time?” May asked her. 

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. 

May nodded, understanding. “OK,” she soothed. “Take a minute, but we have to move on soon.” 

“I know,” Simmons replied quietly. 

“Let’s give them some space,” Coulson ordered, rounding up the group. “You can all rest up ahead for a couple of minutes. I’m sure, if you’re anything like me, your feet are complaining loudly right now.” 

As they left Simmons pushed her face into his shirt again, a soft sob escaping her when the shuffling of feet subsided. 

“Jemma-” he began softly.

“I can’t,” she squeaked.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “You don’t have to tell me anything… but...but thank you… for saving my life.”

She leaned back, staring back at him desolately with moistened eyes before managing a smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” she told him. Then she gently kissed his forehead before rising to her feet, pulling him up with her. “We should keep going.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, thinking of dwindling time before the device was turned into a bomb, sliding his hand down her arm and twining their fingers together as he stood. 

Side by side, they returned to their team and, though she feigned calm with very un-Simmons-like skill, every so often her hand would tremble in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe reference in this chapter is the bullet pendant. Olivia/Peter have this pendant as a memory of when Olivia was shot in the head to stop the world from ending (seriously) but survived because she was filled up with extra cortixiphan and her brain regrew like some sort of starfish. The bullet first appears on a necklace in The Bullet that Saved the World and is worn by their daughter Etta.
> 
> I have no idea about mechanics. The stuff about the machine is pretty much made up except that heat is infra-red radiation and energy cannot be destroyed. (Thermodynamics, it keeps coming back XD)
> 
> A pyroclastic flow is a wave of hot ash released from composite volcanoes (like Mt. Fuji and Mt. St. Helen's) when they erupt.


	10. The Ghost in the Machine

Simmons had been wrong.

She'd thought that being with her team, remembering how much they cared for her, letting herself care for them, would weaken her resolve. Though it was true that allowing herself to spend time with them, to follow Coulson's lead, hear May's strong, calming words, laugh with Skye, hold Fitz's hand, had reminded her of how she would always hunger for more, that she'd never be satisfied with just one more moment, it hadn't weakened her.

Remembering how much they meant to her had only driven her determination to ensure their continued survival. She was more frightened of letting them down than letting them go, though she was terrified of the latter.

Fitz's fingers were still tangled between hers and their linked hands held her down like an anchor for a small ship. She soaked in the feeling of it, the smell of the trees and the sound of his voice, the warm sunshine and the feeling of fresh air passing in and out of her.

She could follow the oxygen from that air, across the membranes of her lungs and into her blood, through her heart, pumped to her tissues, migrating all the way into the mitochondrias of her cells where it allowed them to convert energy stored in macromolecules into the form of ATP so that she could move and think and digest her breakfast.

It was beautiful. The entire world, as broken as it was at the moment, was spectacular, a wonder, and so was the man holding her hand.

She loved him more than anything in the universe, and he had no idea. She was going to die, and he had no idea how much she loved him.

Except that he did.  _Her_ Fitz, the one from when she was from, knew how she felt about him. She told him every single day, sometimes twice (sometimes more than that). If he knew, someday this one would know.

How bad could it be, really, to open the box a little early? It wasn't as if he would remember, and it wasn't as if he didn't feel the same way.

"These woods make me think of that film we saw together, the one with the dog," Fitz mused.

"Old Yeller?" she guessed.

He laughed. "Nah, the other one. The one with the happy ending."

"The one that made you cry?" she teased, swinging their arms playfully as they followed the others. "Even though everyone was fine in the end?"

"They did their best to make you think the poor mutt was going to doggie heaven though, didn't they?" he defended.

"I knew he wasn't," Simmons reminded him, chuckling softly. "I knew little Tony's plan would work."

"You knew the dog would run," he agreed warmly. "You were a real pain in the arse about it too," he added, nudging her affectionately. "'Oh Fitz, stop being silly,'" he mimicked, "'of course the dog isn't going to die. He's going to run, just like Tony planned.' Spoilers."

'I'll show you real spoiler,' she thought, breathing in his scent as she watched the light catch his laughing eyes. 'Just come a little closer.'

Was it really too much for a dying woman to ask for one last kiss? (Or two, or three, or a dozen). She could easily call up the memory of her own Fitz's lips, pressed against hers, and she wondered if this version of him would feel any different, not that she would mind. On the contrary she was, strangely, curious.

She was seriously considering it, debating between giving him a warning first or just going for it and surprising him, when a shout from the front of the group stole her attention.

"We've found it," Coulson called. "Leaky, Niehaus, FitzSimmons, let's shut this thing off."

Simmons cursed herself for her hesitation. It seemed as if she'd have to wait, but she was adamant she'd still follow through.

If she was going to say goodbye, she was going to do it properly.

/-/-/

"Everyone needs to stay away from the device unless absolutely necessary," Leaky announced, holding out her arms and gesturing for the group to move away from where the machine hummed a few dozen meters behind her. "Further than that," she told them, pushing out with her hands.

They continued to shuffle backwards, exchanging puzzled mutterings.

"What's going on?" Coulson asked.

Leaky and Niehaus eyed Fitz and, after a nervous glance at Simmons, who narrowed her eyes questioningly, he nodded.

She was going to have to find out eventually.

"We believe that- by now- the machine will be emitting high levels of radiation," Niehaus informed him. Skye and most of the civilians' eyes widened and quite a few took a couple more steps back. "Any negative effects will be erased when time resets of course," he assured them. "We just don't want anyone having… an unpleasant reaction… right now."

"Except for the engineer who's going to turn it off," Simmons commented tartly beside him, stiffening.

Fitz couldn't look at her. That wasn't even the worst part and she was already angry with him for the lie she knew he'd been telling her.

"Even if the levels aren't high enough to make you sick, the area should still be cleared so no one is caught in the explosion when it's turned off," Leaky went on. Once again, she eyed Fitz wearily. "Except… well… I'm sorry agent Fitz, we didn't make it in time."

"It's OK," he mumbled, blood chilling, though he tried not to show it. "At least I'll have some motivation to do the job properly… er… not that I wouldn't have anyway."

He risked turning to Simmons who stared back at him, jaw clenched. He wasn't sure if she was furious or about to burst into tears.

"We really are," Niehaus pressed. "Sorry, for everything."

"I'd say don't do it again," Coulson replied flatly, "but…Well, let's just hope you don't do it again."

The pair nodded in acknowledgement.

"Why does it need to be Fitz?" May asked calmly. "Can't one of you do it?"

"That would break protocol," Simmons explained icily, glaring at them. "They need to ensure their own survival in case something goes wrong, because they are the most knowledgeable about the machine and its effects on time and space."

The two scientists lowered their heads and shuffled their feet, appearing as if they'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

"I can do it," Fitz declared bravely. He turned to Coulson. "Sir, I know I can."

"Fitz no," Skye objected, shaking her head, horrified.

"He'll be OK," Coulson assured her heavily. "None of this is permanent."

"It's still going to hurt," Simmons muttered, her hand clutching his. "Can we have moment?" she asked the others, her gaze sweeping over each of them before resting on their leader.

Coulson nodded somberly. "Of course."

One by one the rest of the group left them, a teary eyed Skye lingering before Coulson draped an arm around her shoulders and led her away. Simmons watched them go before turning back to Fitz, holding back her own tears.

"Hey," Fitz soothed, seeing her expression and trying to smile reassuringly as he rubbed the sides of her arms. "I know you're worried about me but I'll be back, I promise, this isn't goodbye forever."

"You can't do this," she told him desperately, voice cracking. "I know you think that you can but-"

"I know how to fix the machine," he told her firmly, dropping his hands, growing defensive and prickly at her perceived accusation. "And yes, I'm bloody terrified, but that isn't going to stop me from trying. I'm an agent, just like May, just like Ward. Just because I can't swoop down from a plane and-"

"Ugh, Fitz!" she hissed, throwing her head back in exasperation. "This isn't about that. I  _know_  how brave you are, how strong, how clever. You are the most amazing person I've ever met, but you are not prepared for this. You aren't ready to die."

Her praise caught him off guard and he found himself fumbling for his next words. "You… you really think that?"

She sighed, smiling as she shook her head in disbelief. "I do, and you never could see it," she told him. Her arm moved up so she could hold the side of his face with smooth, gentle fingers and he pushed his cheek into her hand, unable to take his eyes off of her, his pulse quickening at what she was saying, the way she was looking at him. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met," she repeated softly, "my favourite person... I can't let you do this."

He placed his hand over hers, stroking the side of it with his thumb. "I have to."

Her lip trembled. "Then I'll come with you," she decided firmly. "You might need my help anyway."

"I can manage on my own," he objected swiftly, horrified at the idea of her being killed with him, even if it were only temporary.

"I'll come with you," she insisted, taking her hand back, eyes flaring as if he'd offended her.

"Jemma…" he pleaded.

"No," she snapped shrilly. "No, you are not dying alone. I won't let you, it's too awful to do by yourself."

"And how would you know that?" he protested loudly, needing to stop her, to keep her safe. "Why are you talking as if you know how it feels? Why-"

"Because I do know how it feels!" she shouted, silencing him.

It was as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. He couldn't breathe but he didn't understand why, he didn't understand what she was telling him.

They stared at each other, Simmons wheezing in shaky breaths, about as winded as he was, while she waited for him to respond, seeming stunned by her own declaration.

"What?" he managed to choke out after a moment.

"You were wrong,  _you_ didn't die Fitz," she told him, staring past his shoulder. There was a long pause and her eyes grew bright, threatening to spill over but she closed them, taking a deep breath, and went on. "I did."

Fitz narrowed his eyes, not comprehending, his gaze locked onto her as she continued to look beyond him. "No... no you didn't." He hadn't meant to disagree, his objection came out before he could stop it. What she'd said hadn't made any sense at all.

She laughed, not out of amusement but from something awful, a sound born of twisted misery and horror. "I only have one pupil Fitz," she reminded him dryly, glancing his way at last. "Only one in each eye, why do you think that is?"

Fitz shook his head, the world spinning out from under his feet. "No."

That wasn't an answer. He knew why, knew her words before she spoke them.

"It's because I don't have a body," she explained, pouring them out into the world, making them real.

"No," he repeated, wanting her to stop but needing her to continue, needing to know.

"I don't have a body," she persisted, "and so there was nothing to meld with this body, nothing that could harm it. I was the perfect candidate for this mission, the only one who could do it."

"No."

She wasn't crying but Fitz was. Large, hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he shook his head, slowly, back and forth, unable to look at her.

It made sense, too much sense for him to keep denying it, and Simmons wouldn't lie to him, not ever, not about this.

There were sharp things inside of him, jagged, pointed metal that gouged his gut each time he sucked in a breath, as he thought about what was to come, what was looming before them.

They were  _there_ though, facing it, in that moment. So he sniffed loudly, lifting his chin to meet her gaze once more, not bothering to wipe his face.

"How... how are you-" he held up his hands, flailing them inarticulately before him, at a loss for a gesture as well as a sentence to ask his question.

"How am I here?" she guessed, putting together the simple phrase that had escaped him.

He nodded, shuddering as he stifled a whimper. She didn't seem it but she must have been terrified, and he didn't want to make things worse by breaking down in front of her.

"I was in a machine," she told him flatly, he thought he saw her body tremble as she spoke but she hid it well. "It's... it's stolen Hydra technology. You remember who they are, right?"

Fitz nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They were the bad guys, from World War II, he'd learned about them in the History of SHIELD.

"This was always going to be a one way trip," she went on. "There's no way to put me back now...besides our model isn't permanent, they can't... they couldn't have kept me that way." She exhaled shakily and a tear dripped down the side of her face. "N-not th-that I'd... w-want them to... it's horrible." At last she let out a sob, then another, squeaking softly with such anguish that it would have broken his heart into a thousand pieces if it wasn't already shattered.

It  _hurt_  seeing her this way, so afraid, in so much pain and it hurt even more when he realized how brave she'd been. She'd kept everything to herself this whole time, gone on the mission, did as she was told for the good of everyone else even though she was living in hell. She was walking through a nightmare for a world she was about to leave behind and she'd been doing it all alone.

"Jemma," he soothed, carefully touching her shoulder, unsure if it was what she wanted, ready to take his hand back if she drew away.

She didn't though. Instead she shuffled forward jerkily, wrapping her arms around him and pushing her face into his shoulder, shaking with quiet sobs that grew louder when Fitz returned the embrace and she held him tighter, as if afraid he'd let go.

He kissed her head and stroked her hair, not knowing what to say, how to fix it, as he cried silently with her, tightening his own grip because it suddenly felt as if she could disappear at any moment. She was so warm, buzzing with life, the complete opposite of the corpses which made him too afraid to enter their lab but, like them, her time had run out. He couldn't let go because then she'd slip away forever and the best part of himself would be gone too.

"It was so stupid," she whispered, after a minute. "How I died."

Fitz wasn't sure he wanted to hear about how she'd died, to think of her as dead. He couldn't stop it, neither of them could, and knowing without being able to do anything would be agony, but if that was what she needed he wasn't going to argue.

"And  _when_  I died." She squeaked. "... I just wish... I wish I'd had more time," she said softly. "I know... a lot of people do... even when they've had a whole lifetime... but I wasn't done yet, there was so much more I wanted to do and... we were finally... happy."

'Aren't we happy now?' Fitz thought, but he kept it to himself, listening.

"You don't understand, do you?" she asked, leaning back so she could see his face. Her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were soaked in her own tears but she smiled fondly at him. "Because we are happy... right now."

"Something is going to happen," he guessed numbly.

She nodded, still smiling as if she were proud of him for answering a test question correctly.

"Things are going to go very wrong, and we're going to be...broken, for a little while." Her smile faltered for for a few heartbeats before it returned. "It seems like a long time but in the grand scheme of things... if I'd lived... it... it wouldn't have been."

Her expression was warm as she reached out to touch the side of his face to her palm, gently rubbing her thumb under his eye.

"We were finally right again, not the same but that didn't matter because what we were was still beautiful, everything I wanted." She laughed, a real laugh that made her eyes sparkly. "Well,  _almost_." She shook her head, a sly grin bringing light from darkness. "You had no idea," she marveled, stroking his skin with her thumb again. "I guess I can't really blame you for that."

It was strange, that she kept talking about the future him in past tense, and he dreaded the awful thing that was going to pull them apart, but he did like the feel of her hand, cool on his burning cheek. He was used to her touching him, but not like this, and it was wonderful.

She chuckled. "I remember you were in the middle of assuring me that I could forget what you'd told me in the med pod," she explained. "That you could move on, that we could move on together. I've never seen you so surprised as you were after I kissed you."

'What were we doing having important discussions in a med pod?' Fitz wondered before he took in the rest of what she'd said.

"Wait... you did what?" he sputtered.

"Actually, you looked exactly the way you do now," she teased.

Too much was happening at once, swirling around in his head hazily.

"But… but… why?" he fumbled, confused.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. "Why do you think?"

Fitz was at a loss for words.

Simmons rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath. "Let me show you then," she offered.

With practiced precision, she reached up to place a gentle kiss on his lips, pausing as she pulled back to float her face in front of his before she went the rest of the way. Then she waited, watching him intently, but he still couldn't manage to reply.

"Please say something," she begged, doubt creeping its way into her expression.

Damnit, she was going to think he didn't feel the same way, that he was freaked out. His tied up tongue was hurting her. He had to snap out of it.

"You're going to kiss me?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "Quite often actually."

"We'll be together?" he inquired, needing to clarify, head spinning.

Another nod and her mouth twitched upwards slightly.

He bit his lip, feeling a wave of fresh tears spilling over his eyelids. "A-and th-then you're… you're going to…"

"Then I'm going to die," she told him, unsettlingly calm, as if she didn't have the strength to show her sorrow anymore.

Fitz's heart was smashed into more pieces than he'd thought could come out of it. "Jemma," he squeaked, leaping forward to pull her into a solid embrace.

She lifted her arms, rubbing circles onto his back as he broke into uncontrollable sobs. "Shhh," she soothed. "It's OK."

"N-no," he spluttered. "No, no, no, no, you can't. I w-won't let you."

"There's nothing you can do love," she murmured, pulling him closer.

His heart twisted at the term of endearment. It should have been wonderful, pure bliss, but it had been tainted.

"We'll stay here then," he decided, abandoning reason, voice watery. "You haven't died here, you'll be safe. We can be together, I want that too. We'll go back to the school and-"

She turned to kiss the side his face, stopping him, before she nuzzled her cheek against his and her next words were whispered into his ear. "Fitz you know we can't do that." He whimpered and she kissed him again. "Shhh." She resumed rubbing circles into his back. "It'll be OK."

"I can't turn off that machine if it's going to kill you," he croaked. "I c-can't…" It wasn't going to be OK. The world was truly ending, exploding and collapsing around him.

"Then I'll do it," she said softly.

"No," he protested desperately, tightening his grip on her.

She smoothed the back of his hair then softly kissed his cheek. "You'll be OK." Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders and, very gently, she pushed him away.

Then she turned around and, slowly, made her way towards the machine. Fitz followed, unable to stop her because he knew she was right. Not turning it off would do worse than kill her, it would erase any time she had left. This way, at least, there was future and maybe that future could be changed.

Her hands shook as she reached for the first power cell, the one in section 4, and she flinched, squeezing them into fists. "I-I need you to tell me how," she whispered.

She really was going to do it. He couldn't bear how incredibly wrong that was.

"No you don't," he told her, gathering his courage. "Let me."

He knelt beside her and set to work, refusing to ask for assistance, refusing to let her be the one to end her life. Grateful, she curled her arm around his back and leaned against him, watching.

His head wasn't throbbing and he didn't feel as if he were going to throw up, so he guessed the radiation levels were at least low enough that the effects weren't immediate, which made his work much easier. So there was that. However it was hard to think of the fact that they weren't going to live long enough to start feeling ill as a silver lining.

"Have I ever told you, dear, that you have lovely hands?" Simmons remarked, making him blush despite everything that was happening.

"All of you is beautiful," he answered. It was true, and she should know.

She chuckled and kissed his eyebrow. "I never said the rest of you  _wasn't_ ," she teased.

It was good to know that, even under the threat of being blown up, he'd kept his ability to transform into a human beet.

He continued, trying not to think about what he was doing. Every so often he would turn to plant a frantic kiss on Simmons' face or her hair. A few times their lips met and she pulled up a smile that shone sunshine into him.

He stopped when he reached the last switch.

"That's it then," she remarked softly.

"It is," he agreed, halfway to stone.

"Can I have just one more minute?" she pleaded. She sounded so small.

He pulled her into his arms and rained kisses onto her face. "You can have anything darling," he murmured.

She turned her head so that the side of it lay on his shoulder and her forehead touched his jaw, silent as he traced patterns on the skin of her back.

More than a minute had passed when she spoke.

"Live your life," she requested, he hated how resigned she sounded. "Live your life and love  _me_ , whoever I am. That's what I want."

"I will," he swore. "But I'm not giving up. I'll find a way to save you."

She made a noise between a laugh and a sob, lifting her head to grin at him and run the tops of her fingers down the side of his cheek, making his skin tingle. "You are so stubborn," she mused before kissing him again. "I love you."

"I love you too Jemma," he answered, keeping his voice even and strong. For her.

She glowed as he spoke, happy and at peace. Then she smiled at him and, before he could stop her, her arm rocketed towards the machine and she flicked the switch.

The searing heat lasted only an instant, after that they were both gone.

/-/-/

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue :D
> 
> The Fringe reference is the comment about the hands. It is a modified version of when William Bell tells Astrid "Has anyone ever told you, dear, that you have lovely hands". I think he kinda makes her uncomfortable though, 'cause he's possessing the body of her friend at the time.
> 
> The movie about the dog is made up, but the kid is named Tony after Antoine Triplett (I missed him in this fic).
> 
> The title of the chapter is from the title of a book (which I haven't read) about the brain/body relationship. From what I understand from the summary it is about the idea that the brain and body are not separate things so NOT a ghost (brain) in the machine (body), so it'd be against the whole Hydra tech thing haha... but, you know, science fiction ;)
> 
> EDIT: There is another Fringe reference I completely forgot about. It is the line "Live your life and love me." It is what the wife of a man who uses her work to create a time machine tells him when he tries to create a time bubble to stay in a time before she had Alzheimer's in the fourth season episode And Those We've Left Behind


	11. A Feeling

_**September 10, 2015** _

Simmons awoke to morning sunshine, noticeable even through closed eyes, pushed against the edge of the small bed, her arm draped over Fitz's middle and her forehead pressed into his shoulder.

She'd always been a morning person, ready to spring up and enjoy the day but, since she was already enjoying it, she remained where she was, nuzzling further into the fabric of his pijama sleeve to block out the light and breathe him in, warm and safe.

"What are you doing?" Fitz chuckled softly, letting her know that he too was awake.

His fingers ran, only a little shakily, through her hair and she let out a contented sigh. "Mmmm. You feel good," she purred, adjusting her grip on his stomach and leaning into him so that the warmth of his body radiated along hers.

He did feel good, better than sunshine and bubble baths, and for some reason, that morning, she had an overpowering urge to savour it, to soak him in. It wasn't really worth fighting it. Her hands were tied.

He was silent for a moment. Then he turned to leave a soft kiss on the top of her head. "So do you," he murmured into her hair.

Simmons knew that tone.

She shifted and placed her chin onto his chest, far enough away that she could she his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He returned to playing with her hair, gently running the length of one of her locks between his fingers and pausing to rub the tip. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I just… I… uh… it's… it's…" He pressed his lips together, frustrated. "I haven't been this foggy in a long time."

She moved forward to kiss his forehead. "It's OK," she assured him. "You'll get it."

"No… it's… um… something's wrong," he told her.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" she worried, lifting herself off of him. "What feels wrong?"

"It's just a feeling," he explained, reaching up to rub her arm. "I'm not… sick or… Or anything."

She frowned, confused, as she hovered over him. "I don't understand."

"I don't either," he confessed.

Simmons couldn't help the anxious pinpricks spotting her stomach. He couldn't possibly be slipping backwards… he couldn't be. Not after he'd come so far.

"Maybe we should get you checked out anyway," she suggested carefully. "I already have some work waiting for me in the lab." Grudgingly, she sat up, remembering how many files she still needed to go through, and let her feet fall off the edge of the bed. "Perhaps you could come down after breakfast."

"I don't uh...I don't think you should go down there," he protested anxiously.

She twisted around, raising her eyebrows at him.

His fingers tugged at each other and his mouth was set in a line that twitched as he watched her. He looked scared. "I can't explain it, it just… just stay, just for a bit longer. Please?"

She narrowed her eyes, softening, and traced a finger from his hair to the back of his jaw. "Is this because I was gone all last week?"

He shrugged, staring up at her pleadingly.

"Alright then," she conceded, slipping back beneath the comforter, laying on her side so that she was facing him. "I'll stay for a bit longer."

He smiled and rolled over so that he could continue playing with her hair. "Thank you," he said warmly. "I know that you'd much rather be going through long, boring files."

"Not really," she answered, closing her eyes because what he was doing was incredible. She hadn't really put much thought into how sensitive her scalp was before they'd gotten together. "Besides, this is worth it," she mumbled.

"Is it?" he teased, pausing to lightly kiss her eyebrows. "Do I need to seduce you into staying? Is that uh... is that the trick."

She smiled. "No, but it wouldn't hurt."

He chuckled and began landing kisses across her face that sank under her skin and made their way to her stomach where they sparked and tingled. When he reached her lips she wrapped an arm around him, squirming closer, and they stayed in their room together for much longer than a bit.

/-/-/

While they were getting dressed there was a loud, sudden bang that shook the walls and an alarm sounded angrily in the hallway.

They glanced, wide eyed, at each other, before rushing outside, Simmons still buttoning her shirt and Fitz shaking on his shoes.

"What's going on?" Simmons asked one of the agents scurrying past. She'd noticed several of them wearing earpieces.

"There was an explosion in the lab," she told them, shouting over the alarm. "Don't worry, everyone's fine, it was empty, and they have the flames under control, but I think we lost a good chunk of our work."

"Oh no," Simmons groaned, frustrated though she was relieved no one had been hurt. "I hope all my notes haven't been incinerated, I'd have to go through all the paperwork about that stupid extra file again."

The awful blaring mercifully cut off.

"The one about Westfield?" the agent asked curiously.

"It isn't nearly as interesting as it sounds," she told her dismissively. "One extra case appears in our database and a book needs to be written about it," she complained. "There were only  _two words_ in the document: 'Westfield, Vermont'. There isn't a date, or a number for the team who received it, officially, no one put it in, it's just… there."

"Isn't that interesting in itself?" she wondered.

"Not fourteen reports interesting." She shook her head. "Someone even went to the town to investigate- I had to read three pages about a diner owner who refused serve chocolate crepes because he had a 'bad feeling about them'. I know Coulson wants us to be thorough, especially now, but it was probably just an error in the system. Right Fitz?"

She turned to her partner, expecting him to agree, only to find him staring at her, mouth slightly ajar as if something had surprised him.

"What?" she asked, quickly checking to ensure she'd dressed properly. She was fine, everything on, zipped and buttoned. "Fitz?"

"You were going to go to the lab," he answered flatly.

A jolt fired down her spine. "I was but you..."

"I had a feeling," he finished.

For a couple seconds, neither of them spoke.

"It's a coincidence," she decided, brushing off the awful grip of fear at how close she'd been to being horribly injured… or worse. "You probably just had a nightmare you don't remember."

"...Yeah," he agreed hesitantly. He nodded. "Yeah probably."

She chuckled, trying to rid them of the ominous shadow that had passed over them. "But you're still going to use it as an excuse to keep me in bed with you in the mornings aren't you?" she teased.

He grinned and pecked a kiss onto her lips. "Yeah, probably."

/-/-/

And they all lived happily ever after and kicked Hydra's butt.

The End.

/-/-/

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fringe reference is a little vague this time too. It is the lines "You feel good," and "So do you". Charlie says the first part to his wife when he comes home after being attacked and infected by a monster, then saved, and she responds with the second.
> 
> I put a a few hints of Simmons being dead in the story:
> 
> \- She is twice described as a ghost, once when she tells Ward in chapter 6 "I am a ghost" and in chapter 7 when Fitz thinks that "When she spoke her voice sounded like the voice of a ghost".
> 
> \- Additionally in chapter 6 she thinks: 'It'll be over soon,' ... 'It'll all be over very soon.' Meaning everything is going to be over.
> 
> -Also in chapter 6, when Simmons notices "Others looked like friends or coworkers or even strangers, clinging to the warmth and courage that came out of hearing another being's voice, feeling another person's touch." she is noticing it because while she is in the machine she cannot touch anyone.
> 
> -there may be more I have forgotten about haha. 
> 
> Super huge thanks to notapepper for all their help with this story. :D You are the wizard of fanfiction.


End file.
